Hear the Bells in Brooklyn
by xFlipperx
Summary: She was born to be seen, never speak a word unless spoken to. His whole life was being heard, it's how he survived. A powerful king and a trapped princess, who would have thought? When these two worlds collide, things get messy.
1. Two Worlds

-1**Chapter One**

Two Worlds

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies_

**Author's Note: This is my first 'Newsies' fan fiction so please don't be mean.**

On the outside, she laughed. On the outside, she smiled. On the outside, she was the happy daughter of Mary Ann Pulitzer (who was sister-in-law to Joseph Pulitzer). On the outside, she was the obedient young woman of fifteen who never did anything wrong, not one thing. She was the more reserved sister of her twin, Antoinette. On the outside, Brooklyn Pulitzer was any mother's dream. Any mother of wealth would want to have her; any nanny would be honored to raise her.

But on the inside, she cried. On the inside, she screamed. On the inside she was a miserable slave to the aristocratic world. On the inside, she wanted to break free of all her bonds and run away. She wanted to smash family heirlooms into millions of pieces for the pleasure of seeing their shattered bits scattered across the floor. She wanted to break all the rules and forget about the consequences. Sure she was reserved, but it wasn't from wanting to show her place. It was so she could linger in her thoughts and still appear as if she was fine, when she really wasn't. If the woman inside of Brooklyn was to be played as a moving film, it would be the worst horror movie ever to be seen. Any mother -period- would kick her to the curb, she would be any nanny's nightmare.

Brooklyn wanted to cry, but of course that was not permitted. She wanted to scream, but that was unheard of. She wanted to relieve herself of all her pain but that would require suicide and she didn't want to go to hell. So she muddled on with her life, putting on the façade of a happy young woman to please her mother.

How she wished her father was still around. Harold Pulitzer was her favorite member of her family, the only one she would talk to. And he would listen to her and give her his advice. The two were as close as two people could get, and they were ripped apart brutally. Harold had been going into the center of Manhattan a few months back to visit his brother and he got attacked during a trolley worker's strike. An angry striker had misfired and shot him in the back, killing him.

And then there was Antoinette to add to her family. She didn't hate her sister, but she held a few things against her. The girl was always so damned impulsive. She thought with her heart and not her head, and that got her into trouble too many times to count. Antoinette was her twin; she should be able to talk to her, right? Well wrong in this situation. Antoinette was a serious gossip and anything Brooklyn revealed to her sister would probably get passed onto her gossipy friends. In no time, it would be all around the city.

Her mother was well, mother. Mary Ann would simply give her needlework lessons, listen to her piano, read with her and gossip with Antoinette and her older lady friends. And that's all Brooklyn believed her mother did. She didn't care about what was going on in the world or with her daughters. Unless that daughter had some interesting gossip to chat about. Brooklyn's friend Amelia told her that it was because of Harold's death, but Brooklyn knew it wasn't. Her mother had always been like that, though her ways did seem to worsen when her father was killed.

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" a soft voice read from the leather-bound book she held in her hand. It was Shakespeare's famous Romeo and Juliet, a practically required read for all young women in late eighteen ninety-nine. Mostly it was read by women of the family, usually openly so they could discuss.

And that's where we lay our scene. In a large library with a roaring fire, three women sit around from each other in a circle of cushioned chairs. Two brunettes and a blonde. One of the brunettes was far older than the other two girls, the other brunette appearing the same age as the blonde. And we set our scene on the Pulitzer's reading hour.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I shall no longer be a Capulet," it was the blonde who was speaking. Yes, fair blonde was her hair. A shade lighter than honey, as some described it as. Her sharp green eyes scanned the page as she read to the two brunettes. As she continued to read, she began to daydream. She could not see how she found herself still reading when her mind was nowhere near fourteenth century Italy. "What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot. Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

She paused, looking up at the older brunette. She nodded and then looked to the younger brunette. The girl was the same age as the blonde, and the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Though the brunette did not share the same hair color, freckles or green eyes, there was resemblance. The heart shape face, for instance. The almond shaped eyes and the strawberry pink lips were the same on both girls. If those features were for naught, no one would be able to tell they were sisters, none-the-less twin sisters.

Yes, these were the Pulitzer twins. The two girls were complete opposites of each other as if they were night and day. Antoinette was the party animal, and almost no parties were held during the day. And Brooklyn was the daytime, soft and just seemed to slip by. And yet her presence could light up a room. How could one's façade overcome their true feelings?

Brooklyn pondered upon the thought for many a minutes. She supposed her mother and father had taught her well. No emotions were to be shown, it just wasn't right. It showed weakness, and members of the aristocratic social ladder were _not _weak.

"Away girls, we must ready ourselves for Uncle Joseph's holiday ball tonight," their mother, Mary Ann said as they put their books on the shelf.

"Yes mother," the girls said in unison and quickly left the library.

"Well that was terribly boring," Antoinette said flatly, rolling her eyes slightly.

"I happen to find the works of Shakespeare enlightening," Brooklyn replied, trying to keep her thoughts on the fourteenth century tragedy. "A bit depressing, yes, but well written and meaningful."

"Whatever you say, dear sister," the brunette replied. To get off her least favorite subject, she quickly changed the conversation. "So aren't you excited for Uncle's ball tonight? There are going to be many young men there to converse with. I love New York men."

"Antoinette!" Brooklyn chided in a near-exclamation. She whacked her sister on her shoulder lightly with her fan. "What if someone heard you speaking in such a fashion?" She lowered her voice. "Do you know you could be labeled as some kind of whore if that statement hit the streets? You could dishonor this whole family." Her sister gasped and glared at Brooklyn.

"I cannot believe you would say such a thing, sister," she replied in a harsh whisper as they took to the long, winding stairs up to their room. "And how dare you." Brooklyn wanted to reply, but she took a deep breath and shook her head lightly to rid herself of it. She did not want to get into a fight, not with her sister and not at that moment. She already had enough on her mind; she did not want a silly squabble to haunt her.

She did not want haunting thoughts to annoy her at the ball tonight. She wanted to be open and welcoming. Who knew? Maybe some nice young man would ask to court her and she would be able to stay away from her mother and sister for most of the day. How she wanted a man to take her away from her poor excuse for a life. She didn't have to love him, he had to adore her and that was simply that.

"Damn these cruel contraptions," Brooklyn hissed as her maid, Lily, tightened her corset around her bodice.

"Shush now miss," Lily admonished gently. "You wouldn't want your mother to hear you using such talk."

"Excuse me, _Lily,_" Brooklyn spat in frustration. She wasn't mad at the maid in particular, but the light scold of the worker had put her over the edge. "But remind me again. Who is the employer in this situation?"

"You are, Miss," Lily replied quietly, bowing her head slightly as she tied the chemise's few laces.

"And who gives the orders?" Brooklyn's voice was venom, and she didn't even know why. Her emotions had been off the rocks lately, and she couldn't seem to control what she did or said in these moments.

"You do, miss," the servant replied. It was quite sad, really. A twenty year-old maid being bossed around by someone five years younger than she. Brooklyn could not imagine how degrading this must be for the servants.

"Yes, let's keep it that way, hmm?" she replied tersely. As she slipped into her black gown, she softened her expression and looked at Lily. "I'm sorry; it's not your fault. I shouldn't have snapped. I've been very frustrated today." Lily simply nodded, afraid that if she said anything in the wrong tone she might set off her employer again.

Using a hot metal iron, Brooklyn's hair was curled and set in a half-up, half-down style with a black ribbon. Her face was painted lightly as she preferred to show off the natural beauty she was told she possessed. A black mink coat was draped over her shoulder at the door to their city mansion by Lily.

Brooklyn walked down to the carriage. Though she had wanted to come to this party before, she no longer wished for the chance. All she wished to do now was rip off her corset, burn it and then run away. She realized that as the carriage driven by their carriage man, Rupert, that option was non existent and she should just forget about the whole thing.

As they arrived they were greeted by their uncle. "My dear sister and my beautiful nieces," he said with a broad smile, hugging them each and then showing them in. A servant took their coats and they then proceeded to the ballroom. The musicians were playing merrily and couples were already dancing. Small gaggles of young women or gossiping widows were spread throughout the large room, and small groups of young men were either chatting or glancing around at the beautifully dressed women.

Antoinette and Mary Ann immediately surrounded themselves with the gossips, leaving Brooklyn to go fetch herself a drink. "Allow me," a suave voice from behind said, handing her a glass of champagne.

"Thank you, sir," Brooklyn replied with a small smile. She knew exactly who this slightly older man was and she did not like him one bit.

"Please, miss, call me Cal," he replied with a silky tone.

"Then you can call me Brooklyn," she replied in a sweet, slightly flirtatious tone. It was false tone and Cal made her want to regurgitate her drink. He asked her to dance and she quickly obliged, seeing her mother approaching.

Brooklyn knew Cal's life story up to that day by the time the slow waltz ended. The fifteen year-old had not gotten a word in. She simply listened with fake interested as he explained how he was basically born with five silver spoons in his mouth and how he was living a fabulously rich life in a mansion that faced Central Park. The only words she managed to get into the conversation was her comment on how lucky he was and how she wished she could live in the heart of New York City. She lived in the upper side of Brooklyn, with the rest of the rich and aristocratic class. How she hated living in a place that had the same name as her as she was constantly being laughed out or taunted.

"Well maybe you will some day," he said with a suggestive smile. She could have smacked him, but she forced a flirty smile and forced a bit of a giggle. "Would you care to join me at my table for dinner?" She nodded and was about to say yes, but then she stopped herself.

"Let me just ask my mother," she replied. "Oh, there she is now." She acknowledged her mother approaching them. Her cheeks were red and she wobbled ever so slightly. She had been drinking, and a little more than she should have before the meal. "Mother," Brooklyn hailed. The slightly intoxicated woman walked over.

"Yes?" she asked, looking from her daughter to Cal.

"I had just asked your lovely daughter if she would like to dine at my table for dinner."

"Apish posh!" Mary Ann replied in a bit of a drawl. "You will sit with my daughters and I at Mr. Pulitzer's table." Cal thanked Mary Ann and then proceeded to tell her about his life. Brooklyn looked around for her sister. She was flirting with a handsome man Brooklyn had never seen before. She then glanced towards the door. Oh if she could only run out there.

"Time for dinner, dear," Marry Ann drawled, taking her daughter's arm. Cal coughed and she let go. He promptly moved in and slinked his arm around Brooklyn's. She forced another smile that he seemed to take well to and led her over to her Uncle's table.

"And I want my beautiful nieces on either side of me," Joseph said as he looked proudly on his blossoming nieces. "Brooklyn to my right, Antoinette on my left. Mary Ann, sit next to Antoinette. Calvin you can sit next to my Brooklyn." Brooklyn laughed in her head, thinking that Calvin was a silly name. But on the outside, she kept a warm smile plastered on her lips as she hugged her Uncle and then took her place at the table.

Money. Politics. Stock market. She wore this, he wore that. Money. Politics. Stock market. Money. Money. Money.

She couldn't take it anymore. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of everything. She leaned over to her Uncle while he was taking a sip of brandy. "Uncle," she whispered quietly. He turned to her. "I'm feeling quite ill. Could you perhaps persuade my mother to let me go home a bit early? I would not like spreading any sickness I might be getting to your guests."

"You don't look yourself tonight, darling," he replied with a nod. "I will see what I can do." She thanked him and nodded.

"Thank you so much for letting me leave, Mother, I am just not feeling myself tonight," Brooklyn said to her mother. She quickly left the room, making a quick stop in her Uncle's room. The consequences of being caught were great, the consequences of not going through with what she was doing was greater.

Searching through the drawers of her Uncle's bureau, she finally found what she was looking for. An 1865 black revolver. It was already loaded, so all she'd have to do was cock it and pull the trigger. She slid it into her coat and then walked outside into the brisk December air. Walking into the waiting carriage, she instructed Rupert to bring her to Central Park.

"Central Park, miss?" he questioned.

"Did I stutter?" she snapped nastily. "Yes Central Park." She ducked inside the carriage and stared out the window. A few automobiles passed them, she watched a few bums drink themselves to stupor. A few newsies were still out, calling the headlines. One caught her eyes and he lifted his hat. Her automatic reaction was to turn up her nose and look away. But when she did, she realized that she was becoming the very thing she hated. She wanted to apologize, but they had far passed him by now.

When they reached the park, she hopped out and instructed the driver to stay where he was. "I will be back shortly," she said gently. "And I'm sorry about before, Rupert. My headache is making me short." He nodded and accepted the apology, then hopped from the carriage to give the horses a snack.

She ventured into the park, following the dirt path. Her black boots left scuffs in them, as she did not feel like she had the energy to go on. The revolver suddenly felt heavy in her pocket. But she kept walking. She would have to be far enough in where not many would hear.

She was walking for about a six or seven minutes when she figured a good spot. She removed her mink coat and tossed it to the floor. She would want a soft landing when she fell. She took the revolver out of the pocket and cocked it. "Goodbye," she whispered to herself, placing the bottle to head. "God save me."

"I wouldn't be doin' that if I was yous," a voice from behind her startled her, causing her to whip around. "It's not healthy." She was faced with a newsie, carrying a few newspapers in his left hand. In his right was a black cane with a gold tip. His light brown hair looked darker in the night, yet his blue eyes pierced it as they looked down into her green. She wasn't that tall at all, only about five foot two. He had to be at least five foot six. Instinctively, she became defensive.

"And who are _you_ to tell me what I should and should not do?" she snapped angrily. He circled her, but she followed him by turning her body so her shoulders were always square to him.

"I'm Spot Conlon, and I'm not tellun yous to do nuthin," he replied, a sly smirk on his face. "I'm just sayin that you shouldn't do it." Brooklyn just eyed him.

"I know you," she said. "You helped with the Newsies strike. Why are you in New York City when you should be in Brooklyn?"

"Why do you care?" he replied with hardly a twang of nastiness in his voice. "Weren't yous about to do somethen'?" Brooklyn remembered herself and took a deep breath. She cocked the pistol again and began to pull on the trigger. Suddenly the gun flew out of her hand and into the dirt.

Quickly she reached for it, but the newsie got it first. "Getch yer coat," he ordered her. She took a sharp breath and let out an "uh!"

"No!" she replied tersely. "Now give me back my _uncle's_ revolver." She held out her hand. But instead of obliging to her wishes, he pointed the gun away from them and fired. Before she could say anything he threw it twenty feet away. He then grabbed her hand and started to pull away. In a swift movement he bent down and grabbed her coat with the hand that held his cane, slinging it over his shoulder. She couldn't do anything but run besides him, she couldn't even fight. His grip on her was too strong.

"S…Sp…Spot," she gasped, putting her free hand to her chest. He looked to her in a bit of frustration. But as he saw the pained expression as he saw the pained expression on her face, he stopped.

"You alright?" he asked as she faltered in her step. She gasped, holding her lower chest.

"I can't breathe," she rasped. Suddenly feeling dizzy, she collapsed onto her knees and coughed. Spot kneeled downed in front of her and made eye contact, blue colliding with green. Hers held tears in them from the pain she felt in her chest.

"What's the matta wicha?" he asked her.

"Cor…corset," Brooklyn managed to rasp to the newsie. "Need…off." Spot's eyes widened. "Please." He nodded and his hands went to her bodice immediately. She felt as if she was going to be sick and she couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the sharp edge the winter air that was cutting her lungs.

He helped her shrug the dress sleeves out of the way to get to the corset. She saw him looking at her ample chest, but forgave him mentally. He was only human. He took a knife out of his pocket and cut the corset down the middle. All at once air rushed into her lungs. Sharp pain also spread to her chest as she took a gulp of much needed oxygen. The pain was great, so she clutched Spot's arm and took deep breaths. He met her gaze and smirked. Quickly she removed her clutching hand and grabbed her coat which he was still holding. He helped bring the sleeves of her dress over her chest and then helped her wrap the coat around herself.

"Miss Brooklyn!" Brooklyn stood up immediately, wrapping her coat around herself to hide her severed corset. Looking down the path, she saw Rupert rushing down. When he saw Spot, he immediately stood defensively in front of her.

"Is he bothering you, Miss?" he asked Brooklyn, shooting Spot a glare. The newsie opened his mouth to speak, his blue eyes sharpening.

"No, no Rupert," Brooklyn said quickly. "He helped me, Rupert. I heard the gunfire and got scared so I started to run. I tripped and fell on the way back and he helped me up. There was no harm, no foul done. Now if you would please bring me back to the carriage." Rupert nodded and started two steps.

Before she left, she turned to Spot. "Thank you," she said quickly and a bit tersely. She then turned around and followed Rupert back to the carriage. There was no time now to go drop Brooklyn off at the mansion and then go back to ball in time. They would have to go straight to the ball and pick Mary Ann and Antoinette up. Boy, would she have a lot of explaining to do.


	2. So We Meet Again

**Chapter Two**

So We Meet Again

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies._

**Author's Note: Yeah, this is my first Newsie's fan fiction so please be nice. Also, I have been informed by friends that I am stealing ideas from other movies without my knowing. Oh jeesey me. I'm sorry if it irks you, I've got most of it written out and there's not much I can change around. So please, if it irks you just don't read it.**

It has been two days since Brooklyn had been out of the house. To impose her 'sickness' she had stayed bedridden. And oh how boredom had come over her those long hours she spent. Cal had come to visit her the previous day and only added to the boredom. As at the ball, she could only put a few words in as he explained in -great- detail his trip to England. And today he was taking her for a walk to the park. She wished she could pretend to be sick, but her mother insisted that she go out and get some fresh air.

"Rose!" Brooklyn called as she descended the stairs. Her dark blue skirt flowed over her black boots and her white blouse was thick and wooly, it was all she could do to keep from itching her arms. "Rose!" Barking was heard, and a little ginger-colored terrier came trotting into the room. She scooped the pup up with a smile and kissed her nose. She was handed a hat and she perched it on top of her light golden bun. She then set Rose down so she could slip on her leather gloves and then her bearskin coat. She then tied a leather leash around Rose's neck.

"Brooklyn," the annoyingly familiar voice of Cal was heard. It snaked its way into her ears and turned into a hiss. But she turned around and smiled, offering her hand.

"Good morning, Cal," she said sweetly. She may have hated him, but he could be her ticket out of Brooklyn and away from her mother and sister. She forced a giggle as he brushed her knuckles with his lips.

"Are we ready to go?" he asked her when he drew away. Brooklyn picked up Rose and nodded. Cal smiled his best debonair smile and his brown eyes held a special glint as he slipped his arm around hers. As they walked down the street, a few people looked over. Newsies yelled out the headlines and carriages rushed by. A very noisy day in this side of Brooklyn, and Brooklyn couldn't wait to get to the quiet and peace of the park.

She couldn't believe how Cal could just keep talking without stopping. She was beginning to think that the man did not need to breathe. When she looked up from the ground she had been staring at while Cal just led her along, talking up a storm, she was surprised to see that they were in the park. She put Rose down so the terrier would be able to stretch her legs and do her _business._

"Do you mind going and getting me pape, Brooklyn?" Cal asked. "I just saw a colleague walk by and I need to ask him a quick question. I'll be back momentarily." Brooklyn nodded and took the penny that Cal held out for her. "Thanks," he said before fixing his brown hair and then going in the direction of a pompous looking man who was sitting on a bench reading a newspaper.

Sighing slightly, she walked up to the nearest newsie, who currently had his back to her. As he called out the headline, she thought he sounded familiar. But she heard newsies calling out the headlines all the time, this one probably usually worked around her mansion. She gently tapped on his shoulder and said "One pape, please." He turned around and she felt her chest jolt as she met his blue eyes with her green.

"It's chyou," he said, handing her the newspaper and taking the penny she had outstretched to him. Brooklyn opened her mouth to speak, but instead of hearing her own words, she heard Cale's voice cut in.

"And why would she know you?" he said snootily, putting a protective hand on her shoulder. "You're Spot Conlon."

"Was I talkin' to chyou?" Spot asked Cal nastily, his eyes sharpening. "I don't tink so."

"It doesn't matter if you weren't talking to me," Cal replied, taking a step in front of Brooklyn protectively. "Why would she want to talk to someone who revolted against her uncle?" Spot's eyes went to Brooklyn, who adverted hers immediately.

"Yer one of dem?" he asked her.

"Yes, she's a Pulitzer," Cal snapped. "Brooklyn Pulitzer. If I ever hear of you harassing her, God so help you. Come, Brooklyn, let's leave this filth."

"I'll show ya filth if ya don't shut that trap of yers," Spot said this with a mix of a hiss and a growl.

Brooklyn stepped forward to stop Cal from completely blocking her from the newsie. "Sorry sir, I-"

"Don't call him 'sir', Brooklyn," Cal cut in and told her. She looked away and sighed. He had to learn not to cut into everything she attempted to say. She closed her eyes, took a breath and then looked at Cal when she continued.

"Sorry _sir,_" she defied. Her tone was terse as Cal was really pushing her too far. She turned to Spot and both her expression and her tone softened. "But I can't say I recall ever meeting you. You must be thinking of some other girl, sorry."

"But," Spot started to say. His eyes had sharpened, he was clenching his fist around his black cane.

"Good day, boy, thank you for the pape, now we must be off." Cal's voice was venomously protective. He took Brooklyn's arm and dragged her passed the newsie. Rose trotted obliviously at her side. But as Cal was commenting on how newsies were worthless filth, she turned her head to Spot and gave him a small smile and a nod of her head in an attempt to get him to know that she remembered him. And for the first time in a long while, the smile towards the newsie was genuine.

He didn't return the smile, he just stared after her. An angry glint glassed his eyes. But she simply kept her small smile and turned away. In less than a second, Spot was back hawking the headline out.

"I could have handled that little situation, Cal," Brooklyn said in a cool tone. "You didn't have to interject like that." Cal stopped in his tracks, forcing her to stop also.

"I was trying to protect-" Brooke cut him off.

"I didn't need protecting!" she said in near-exclamation. "I know how to handle _newsies_, thank you." Cal opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't let him get half a chance. He was obviously becoming frustrated, his grip on her arm had tightened. "Don't say anything in your defense, take me home." The slightly older man didn't object, he took her straight home.

As soon as Brooklyn was back home, she put Rose inside and then walked back passed Cal and went out to her carriage. "Rupert? Can you take me to the bookstore?" she asked him. He nodded and she hopped into the carriage. She watched the people pass and she wanted to scream. She hated being her class, yet she knew that she couldn't run away. They had relatives in every part of New York City, she would never be able to stay hidden.

When they got to the bookstore, she walked right in. She knew exactly what she was looking for and where to find it. "The Wizard of Oz," she mumbled to herself as she picked up the book. Flipping through it, she found it to her liking. So she walked over to the clerk and handed him a quarter. They bid each other goodbye and good day and she promptly left.

"To the park Rupert," Brooklyn said as she stepped into the carriage. He nodded and sent his horse off. Opening the cover, she began to read her new book.

"Thank you Rupert," Brooklyn said as he helped her out of the carriage. "I will walk home." The driver nodded and then returned to the driver's seat. Clucking his tongue and jiggling the reins, he set the horses off for home. Sighing, she entered the park. She figured Spot would be gone by now, so she wouldn't have to fear confrontation with him.

When she found a nice spot by the small pond the park had, she sat down on a bench and reopened her book. As she read, she realized that she was little bit like Dorothy. She wanted to get away from the life she was living. She wanted to get out and go somewhere different, somewhere fantastic. She wanted to be _someone_ different than who she was.

She marked her page and sighed as she closed the book. As she looked up, she started, letting out a small yelp. Spot was standing about two feet away from her, watching her. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded. One of her biggest pet peeves was being watched. This came from having gossipy Antoinette for a sister.

"Only a minute or sumthin'," he replied. He removed his black hat out of courtesy and held it loosely in his hand. She simply stared at him, not knowing what to say. "Why didn't chyou tell me chyou was one of dem?"

"What is 'one of them?" Brooklyn asked, standing up and starting to walk down the path. There was an obvious difference between their vocabulary, grammar and speaking skills. Brooklyn and her sister had been highly educated by expensive private tutors. She guessed Spot had grown up on the streets.

"Ya know, one of dem," Spot replied, walking next to her. "A Pulitzer goil." Brooklyn shrugged her shoulders.

"Yes, I am a Pulitzer," she replied. "But if you knew that two nights ago, would you still have stopped me from shooting myself? Would you have still cut my corset to prevent me from suffocating? Would it have mattered if you knew?" Spot stayed silent, at which Brooklyn huffed and walked faster. "Cal was right," she muttered. "Filth."

"Hey! Don't call me filth!" Spot was next to her in a second. "Chyou don't know me. And did I say I wouldn't have helped ya?"

"That's just it, you didn't say anything." Brooklyn replied. "Your silence was your answer." She turned up her nose and walked faster. She stopped and turn around. "And just so you know, I was on your side during the strike. Cal doesn't know what he's talking about. Hopefully I won't drop dead right here, I know _someone_ who won't help me because of my Pulitzer name." Spot opened his mouth to speak again, but Brooklyn cut him off.

"I know what you were thinking," she said. "You were thinking that by saving me I would be grateful. So grateful, in fact, that you would get me into your bed." She didn't know why she was saying such things and reacting so harshly. She didn't even believe any of the things she was saying to him. It seemed her emotions had flown out of control. She had already been frustrated with Cal, and she supposed that Spot's answer (or lack of) really set her off. She started walking away, feeling tears burning her eyes. _Great, now I'm crying,_ she thought to herself as she wiped a tear away from her eye.

Brooklyn was surprised when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around with an "I'm sorry," as she met the blue eyes of Spot. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you didn't deserve it."

"I know I didn't," Spot replied with a smug look on his face. "But chyou didn't desoive an ansa like dat." He looked at Brooklyn, who was looking passed him. "My ansa is that yeah, I wouda stopped ya." Brooklyn nodded and then started walking.

"You can come along if you'd like," she said, looking back at him. He glanced at that papers in his hand and she nodded. "I understand. I'll be around for a while, come and find me if you finish. But before you go…" she fished out a penny and handed it to him. "One pape, please." He gave her a smiling smirk and handed her a paper. She thanked him and started her way off.

She walked through the park, glancing down at the front page of the newspaper in her hand every few steps. She didn't want to run into anything, and can only grasp a few words. Sighing to herself, she sat herself on another bench and went through the main articles. She was about to throw it out when something stopped her. Oddly enough, she could not find herself to throw it out. Shaking her head at her silly behavior, she tucked it under her arm with her book and then continued on.

Brooklyn found herself thinking about Spot. It was weird, she was surprised at herself when the newsie came into her thoughts. She had a few questions about him that she hoped would get answered. For instance, why did he carry that cane around? And the key he had on his necklace. Was that a symbol that he had a girl?

_Where did that thought come from?_ Brooklyn pondered to herself. Why did she care if Spot had a girl or not? She wondered why the newsie had come into her mind in the first place. Could she have _feelings_ for the boy? _No no,_ she thought to herself. _Definitely not. _She could not have feelings for the newsie. She barely knew him, not to mention they were from two different worlds.

But Brooklyn wanted to escape that world. If she did, would that mean she could possibly be with Spot?

Whoa. Stop the presses. She did not like Spot. Not like that. Sure, he was a nice boy and everything, but she did not like him in that fashion. Highly impossible. Or, perhaps im_probable_. She blinked a few times to bring herself back into her head and almost started at the sight of Spot next to her.

"How long have you been there?" she asked him. _De ja vu. _The newsie just smirked down at her.

"Only a minute or sumthin," he replied in the same way as before. "You looked so lost in yer toughts, I didn't wanna distoib chyou."

"Thanks for the thought, Spot," Brooklyn replied. "Sell all your papes?"

"All for today, yeah," Spot replied. "So what was chyou thinken' bout?"

"Nothing really, maybe everything," Brooklyn replied with a shrug of her shoulders. There was no chance of her telling Spot that she had been thinking about him. No way, that would more than awkward, that might give him the wrong idea.

_What wrong idea?_ a voice said in her head. _You like him? You do._

**Do not,** the other side replied.

_Liar._

"Must have been sumthin' coz chyou were pretty outta it," Spot replied. The two were walking down the path.

"I guess I was thinking about newsies," Brooklyn replied, not making eye contact. "I think about how I've grown up not having to lift a finger, and you're out on the streets working for food. I guess I've never really appreciated what I've got."

"Yeah, we's got it a bit rough, but it's nothen' I can't handle," Spot replied. For some reason or another, it was the first time that Brooklyn registered his clothing. It had to be freezing out, and yet the newsie was only wearing black shoes, brown pants, a blue shirt and he had his cap in his hand.

"Don't you get cold?" she asked, now worrying about him.

"Nah," he replied. "Ya get used ta it afta a while." She still looked at him in worry. His hands looked white, they had to be freezing.

"Would you like to wear my gloves?" she asked him. He gave a little laugh and shook his head.

"A pair of goil's gloves? No way," Spot replied. "'Less chyou wanna see me get soaked." Brooklyn shook her head quickly, at which he laughed again. "So what's it like bein, chyou know, a richie?"

"It's like a cage," Brooklyn replied truthfully. She didn't mind the quick change of subject, in fact she was used to it with high-societies. "You're told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. And good Lord help you if you don't do it as asked - no not asked, told. And then there is the fact that your marriage is most likely going to be arranged. This is going for women and men. And most of the time you don't have any say in whom." Before she could go on, Spot interjected.

"Are chyou engaged?" he asked her. She quickly shook her head.

"No, no," she replied. Was it her imagination, or was that a look of relief on his face. "Or at least, not yet. Do you remember that man I was with earlier."

"Dat bonehead?" Spot replied. "'Coise I do."

"Well if he gets his way with my mother, you might be looking at the future Mrs. Williams." She put a hand to her head at the dreadful thought.

"Do ya love him?" Spot's question caused her to jerk her eyes to him.

"I think that's a highly inappropriate question that is none of your business!" she replied in almost higher. Even if she didn't love him, it was a very inappropriate question, even for a newsie, who had hardly any well-educated background. "Besides, even if I do not love him, I have to admit it is a smart match." Spot shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets.

"And I tought I had ta pity myself sumtimes," he stated. "I tought being a richie was all fun and games." Brooklyn resisted the urge to snort at the statement and simply shook her head.

"I wish I was like you, Spot," she muttered. "Free to do what I want, when I want. I would gladly work as a seamstress or be a newsie if it meant having freedoms I can only dream about in my life."

"Den why don't chyou run away?" Spot asked. "It's not dat hard."

"It would be for me," she replied. "I have relatives in every borough, every part of this grand ole' city. I would be caught and brought back in seconds."

"Have chyou eva tried?" he asked her. She shook her head no and sighed.

"Well, yes," she replied. "But not in the way you're talking about. I attempted to get away, but someone stopped me." She smiled at him and he nodded. "I wanted to thank you for that Spot. I know my life isn't great, but I think I'll be able to get out of it one day. You saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life. Thank you."

"No problem," Spot replied. "I was honoid to do so, miss." Miss. It was the first time he had called her anything. Oh, why did it have to be _miss._

"Please," she said quickly. "Don't call me miss. Brooklyn, if you could please. I absolutely hate the title 'miss'." He nodded.

"Ya got dat, Brookie baby," he replied. She smiled at the name and muttered a thank you.

They walked in silence for a while, just seeming to enjoy each others' company. For Brooklyn, it felt so good to be around Spot. She could relax and not worry about etiquette and being over-zealously proper. But all good things have to end, and the feeling did all too soon when they came to the exit of the park. The trees had prevented them from seeing that it was mid afternoon, and Brooklyn had to get home.

"I have to go, Spot," she said as their feet hit the paved street. "It was really nice talking to you." She held out her hand for him to shake. To her surprise, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently, causing her to raise her eyebrows.

"I saw a richie do dat once and I always wanted ta try it," he explained. This caused Brooklyn to laugh as she nodded. "Lata, Brookie baby," he said.

"Goodbye, Spot," she replied with a small wave. And with that, she started off towards her house. She hoped that she would be able to see Spot again. She felt so comfortable with him, something she rarely felt in the company of others. On her walk home, she recalled her conversation with the newsie. Recalling the marriage section of the conversation, she sighed. She really hoped she wouldn't have to marry Cal.

Especially at her age. Though the engagement would probably last a year before the actual wedding, she did not want to be married at sixteen. Sadly though, she figured it would be so.

She stood in front of her mansion on the first stone step. She stared up at it, and the for the first time in her life, a fire burned inside her that told her not to go inside. To run to Spot and beg him to help her stay secluded. But with a deep blink of her eyes, she doused the passion and walked up the stone steps and walked into her mansion, her cage.

**Author's Note: I know, shorter than the last. I'm sorry. Hope you liked it!**


	3. What are We?

-1**Chapter Three**

What are We?

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies_

She Hated it. Her green eyes glanced up from her book. It was the most hideous thing she had ever lay her eyes upon. Training them back on 'The Wizard of Oz', she continued to read. _"While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted face of the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes slowly wink at her. She thought -"_ Oh shucks! There it was, glittering up at her. The hideous piece of junk that Brooklyn wanted to melt.

Actually, she wanted to rip it off and throw it in the pond. Maybe then Cal wouldn't want to marry her. She went to her finger and grasped the ring between her index finger and her thumb. It was a quite nice ring. A five caret diamond with a gold band.

But she didn't care. To her, it was the most hideous piece of jewelry her eyes had ever had the misfortune to rest upon. Oh, how she would love to be rid of it. Standing up, she walked to the edge of the pond and took off the ring. Taking it in her right hand, she drew back her arm as if to throw it. But looking around, she decided not to. There were too many people around, two many gossipy women. So she slid her ring back on her finger and bit her lip.

"Rose," she called to her terrier. The ginger-colored dog had been lying on the bench next to her. She had been sleeping, up until that moment. She pricked her ears and wagged her stub of a tail. Hopping off of the bench she trotted next to her owner. They were on their late afternoon walk, and Brooklyn had decided she would stop and read.

She had really been hoping to see Spot to vent about what had happened earlier that afternoon. She had enjoyed the conversation they had two days ago. He had really listened to her, and she wasn't used to that. Usually she simply talked at people, and they didn't care what she said. And even after what had happened, she was sure they still wouldn't listen to her.

What had happened. What had happened.

Well to start off, Brooklyn had woken up with a headache. It was her 'time of the month', and how it vexed her so. So she spent the morning in bed, not feeling the urge to move. She spent her time reading with Rose by her side. And then Cal came in, just who she wanted to see. And he began to go on this long tangent about how he had admired her since he had first met her a year or so ago. And apparently, he loved her. He hardly knew her, actually knew her, and he had the nerve to say that he loved her.

And then something worse happened. He got down on one knee and flashed the ring she presently despised in her face and asked her to marry him. She simply told him that she would have to gain permission from her mother. But no, apparently her mother had already given her consent. Oh how she wanted to strangle the woman. But she went to talk to anyway, and had a bomb dropped on her.

Her family was nearly poor. Apparently her father had a gambling problem and spent a lot of their money. And Cal knew this. And Cal had money. So of course her mother accepted when he had asked. He could help fund the pooring family. Mary Ann had scolded Brooklyn for being 'selfish' when she said that she would refuse to marry Cal. And it was either she married Cal or Mary Ann would _personally_ pick a husband for her.

This meant she was cornered into accepting the proposal. And now she regretted it. She should have run away as fast as she could and never returned. She had money, she could have bought a train ticket and went…well, anywhere else. But as she thought about doing that on her walk with Rose, she found that she would miss someone.

It was weird, but she found that she would miss Spot. It was odd. She hardly knew the newsie, and yet she would miss him if she went away. She would miss how he let her talk without interrupting -unless necessary, of course- and how he put in his own opinion. She would miss how he would treat her equally, not as different species that needed to be handled oh-so-delicately. She would miss the twinkle in his blue eyes that came around when he laughed.

Wait. What?!

She recalled her last thoughts. She had actually thought about how she would miss his _eyes_. Oh boy. This was not good, no this was not good. She bit her lip and continued walking. This was not only bad, this was a terrible situation. She was engaged, for goodness sakes. Sure, maybe Cal was a despicable man whom Brooklyn loathed, but she figured she'd be able to learn to tolerate him. But not if she had feelings for another man. That would simply raise hell.

Brooklyn simply cleared her mind, she did not want to think about Spot at the moment. Or the possibilities of an infatuation for him. The more she would think of it, the more she would get into it. The farther she leaned into it, the harder she would fall on her face.

"Trolley crash! Good citizens dead in our streets! Blood strewn across the street!" She saw Spot hawking out the headline, waving his papers in the air. Brooklyn stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel quickly. She was not going to face him off. Not now. Sure, she had wanted to just minutes ago, but now, well now was completely different. She had thought she would miss Spot's eyes! And she couldn't think of him. If she was going to even tolerate Cal, she was going to have to stop thinking about Spot.

So away she went back in her tracks. He had been facing the opposite direction, hopefully he hadn't seen her. She scooped up Rose quickly, so he didn't recognize the little terrier. She zoned out, pretending not to be aware of her surroundings. Thus forth, if Spot was to approach her, she could say she was just in a deep thought and didn't notice him. She'd state an apology and then make an excuse to leave immediately.

Something stopped her thoughts, and stopped her walking also. Someone was tugging on her skirt. Turning to face whoever it was, she was ready to smack whoever it was. But her facial expression immediately changed from hard to soft as she saw large brown eyes looking up at her. A little blonde boy that could be no older than seven was holding onto her skirt in one fist. In his other fist was a bundle of newspapers.

"Well hello there," she said warmly, bending down. She gently took his hand off his skirt and then looked into his eyes. He shied back a little bit and she smiled warmly at him. "Hey there, what's your name?"

"Gyerum," he replied.

"Germ eh?" Brooklyn replied. "Why do they call you that?" Germ showed put his papers down and put both hands up. They looked as if they had never been washed. She understood immediately why they gave him that name. But she continued to be kind and kept smiling. "Is there a reason you're pulling on my skirt?" He nodded and held out a paper.

"Buy a pape from me lady?" he asked her. His voice was high-pitched, showing off his younger age. It was also very soft, as if he was afraid to talking to her. "Please?"

"Well of course I will, Germ," she replied. She was just fishing into her bag when the small Newsie spoke up again.

"Dat'ill be five cents," he told her. He was lying through his teeth, and Brooklyn knew it. But she still took out a nickel from her purse. She was just about to hand it to little Germ when a shadow fell over them and Germ was pulled back from her.

"Yer a little lia'," a voice from over head was heard. "And a scab if yer cheatin a lady outta her money." Brooklyn stood up and looked up slightly, her eyes meeting the face of Spot Conlon. His eyes were trained on the little boy, and they were hard with a sharp edge.

"Back off, Spot," Brooklyn said quickly. "I knew he was lying and I was willing to pay." He turned his eyes on her, but they didn't soften.

"Don't tell me how to run my Newsies," he told her. His tone wasn't sharp but it was admonishing. This didn't cause her to back down. Instead, she bent down to Germ. She held out the nickel, and before Germ could snatch it, she held it back towards her in a warning manner.

"_Five _papes please," she said. He opened his mouth and looked at Spot. Brooklyn didn't care to look up at the King of the Brooklyn Newsies, she focused on the young boy in front of her. Obviously Spot had given his consent because the little boy carefully counted five papers and then handed them to her. She then handed him the nickel. He smiled broadly at the fact that he not only sold five papers to the same person, but he only had one left.

"Tank chyou lady," he said with a wide smile. He then reached out his arms. Smiling knowingly, she set Rose down and gave the little boy a hug. The thought of his dirty hands irked her slightly, but she didn't really care. She gave him a gentle squeeze and let him go. "Bye lady!" He then scampered off, and Brooklyn guessed it was out of fear of Spot, not because he really wanted to go.

"What gives chyou da right ta show me up infronta my newsies?" Spot asked her as she stood up.

"I didn't show you up, Spot," Brooklyn replied. She scooped Rose up into her arms and then started walking down the lane. "I was just trying to help Germ out."

"Den chyou should've given him a tip or sumthin', not let him lie and get away wit it," Spot replied. She wasn't sure if he simply hadn't gotten the hint that she didn't want to talk to him or he got the hint and did not care to take it to heart.

"I didn't know that was considered lying," Brooklyn replied. "I would like to think of it as 'improving the truth' as you newsies do to headlines almost every day." She glazed over the headline that Spot had been hawking before and then used it as an example. "Like this. Blood strewn? It says here that two trolley's bumped and a little girl scraped her knee. Oh, and no deaths either."

"But chyou were just about ta let him take money he didn't desoive," Spot replied with edge in his tone. "And dat's not only lyin', dat's givin him the idea dat he can do dat to anyone. Do ya know what kinda trouble he could get inta doin that?" Brooklyn opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't find words to come out. So she shut her mouth and remained quiet. She didn't think about that possibility. She didn't want Germ getting in trouble.

"I'm sorry Spot," she said quietly. She meant what she said. "I really am. I wasn't thinking when I just a out gave him that coin. I just felt so bad for him. He's so young and tiny and he-"

"Doesn't need charity," Spot replied. His tone had softened also, though it still held a defensive edge. "He hasta learn his place and job before he gets himself inta trouble. And 'cause you almost gave him dat nickel, he could get inta trouble. Now I'll havta straighten the squirt out."

"I am sorry, Spot," Brooklyn replied. Suddenly she felt inferior to the newsie. She hated feeling inferior, it made her uncomfortable in conversations.

"Well ya gotta think before ya do anythin'," he told her in almost a scolding tone. "Didn'tcha faddah eva tell ya dat?" Brooklyn coughed in an attempt to hide the strangle in her throat at the mention of the father. She nodded and looked away. It was terribly pathetic, but even at the mention of her father Brooklyn was nearly reduced to tears.

"Did I say somethin' to offend ya?" Spot asked, noticing her sudden silence.

"It's nothing, Spot," Brooklyn replied, cursing herself for her stupid emotions. She didn't want Spot to think that she was weak or just another pathetic girl that needed all the help in the world. "Compared to what you've probably been through, it's rather superfluous to bring it up. I would seem selfish."

"Well okay," Spot replied. "If chyou wanna drop it, drop it." Brooklyn thanked him and they walked in silence for a minute or two.

"Spot?" Brooklyn said quietly. He looked over to her, arching a perfect eyebrow in question. _'Perfect eyebrow?' _she thought to herself before continuing. _'Oh boy.' _But though her earlier decision had been to run and not talk to him, she decided to stay this time. "Can you walk me home? It's getting dark out and I didn't take a carriage here."

"No problem, no one'll mess wit me," he replied with a proud smirk. "Or anyone dat I'm wit." He was tough and he knew it. He was feared and he loved it. His reputation was the reputation he had tried for three years to achieve. As they hit the street, she noticed he took a step closer to her in a protective fashion, as if to ward off evil itself.

"Spot?" Brooklyn voiced again, a few moments later.

"Yeah?" he replied. She could tell he was looking at her, she could see out of the corner of her eye. But she kept looking straight ahead.

"Where do we stand, as we are?" she asked him. She hoped he would not take it in the wrong fashion.

"What do ya mean?" Spot asked cautiously.

"Well, I mean are we friends, acquaintances or mere strangers that happen to bump into each other and have small chats once in a while?" Brooklyn asked. "I know this is kind of strange, but I want to be able to tell my mother and Cal so they know that you're not harassing me." Spot seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Cal's that real snooty fella, right?" he asked her. Brooklyn nodded and looked down at the ring in her left hand. She guessed that Spot had followed her gaze.

"No," he said in a slight drawl. He took her hand and moved it so he could see it clearly without Rose in the way. Brooklyn let him, his cold hands sent shivers up her arm and straight to her chest. But it wasn't because of the temperature of his hands, no. These shivers felt warm, oddly enough. "Tell me yer not engaged to dat looza." She took her hand away, blushing from being put on such a Spot.

"I am, Spot," she replied quietly.

"Do ya love him?" he asked quickly.

"Do we have to go over this subject again?" Brooklyn snapped. Though she really didn't, she found it a highly improper subject. Not to mention this was the second time he was bringing it up. She looked at him and he just stared back. Sighing slightly, she shook her head.

"Den why are chyou doin dis?" he asked her, pursuing for the answer he wanted to hear.

"Because my family will go bankrupt if I don't," she replied. "Not to mention that all I'll have to do with Cal is be there and he won't object."

"But whata bout when he wants ta have kids?" Spot said, obviously holding some things back. "What happens den?" Brooklyn's mouth dropped open to form a perfect "o" and she completely disregarded that question.

"I'm going to pretend I never heard that," she stated. "That is a ridiculously rude question to ask. If you bring it up again, never again will I talk to you. These are my private matters and if you don't like being witness to my life than you can just get out of it."

There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"So does dis guy Cal really hate me?" Spot asked suddenly.

"Loathe, is more the word," Brooklyn replied. "In a weird way, he's like the son my uncle never had. He completely supports the man and thinks all newsies are scum. But he believes you to be the worst. Not only do you have a bad reputation, but you were 'messing' with me." She rolled her eyes.

"We're friends," he replied with a satisfied smirk. Brooke smiled at this and returned her eyes to look upon the road ahead of her.

When they got to Brooke's mansion, he walked her right up to the top of the stairs. "Just in case," he said with a smile. She thanked him and opened her front door.

"Goodbye Spot," she said as he walked down the stone steps. Though they didn't know it, they were thinking the exact same thing at that very moment.

'_Friends.'_

**Author's Note: I know this chapter was short and had a lot of dialogue in it, and I'm sorry. The next ones will be longer, I promise.**


	4. Cowboy's Warning

-1**Chapter Four**

Cowboy's Warning

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies._

Of course her mother and sister questioned why Brooklyn had bought five newspapers. Antoinette immediately suggested something to Mary Ann that would spread like wildfire unless Brooklyn cut her off immediately. Her sister suggested that she was secretly meeting with a newsboy and because she was so fond of him she bought as many papers as she could to help him along. Upon hearing this, their mother gave Brooklyn a warning glare.

"You simply cannot believe something so absurd, mother!" Brooklyn objected. "I _am _engaged, I would never do such a thing. I try not to dishonor the family."

"You _try_ not to," Antoinette teased. Brooklyn rolled her eyes.

"I happen to have a good -acceptable- reason for buying five papers," she said as she put them down on the coffee table in the foyer. She then explained her story about Germ, making sure to exclude Spot in all aspects. While her sister gave a small smile and an "aw", her mother obviously did not approve. She raised her nose slightly and shook her head. Then she quickly shooed her daughters to ready themselves for supper.

"Is Cal 'gracing'," she said 'gracing' rigidly, as if it was a swear word she didn't want to say. "Us with his presence tomorrow or will I me on my own?" Mary Ann seemed to brighten up when her daughter mentioned her -forced- fiancé, especially at the dinner table. For the Pulitzer women only saved the most important of subjects for table. She looked to her daughter and shook her head.

"No darling, he's not going to be able to make it tomorrow," she replied, a pinch of sorrow in her tone. Mentally Brooklyn praised the good Lord for this luck. "He has some business to attend to in the Bronx. Why do you ask?

"Oh no special reason," she replied. Taking a dainty sip of water, she paused a moment before continuing. "I was thinking of visiting Uncle Joseph tomorrow. Don't make that face; he already said I could go. I wrote to him a week ago." Mary Ann looked taken aback at her daughter's tone, which had gained a bit of edge.

"Very well then, as long as he knows," Mary Ann replied.

Truth was Brooklyn's uncle didn't know that she was going for a visit. But he had told her that she could go whenever she pleased. And 'whenever she pleased' included the following day. Sure, she would have to miss a chance to talk to Spot-

No!

She would not think of him. Okay, they were friends, but she did not want to think of him as anymore than that. Because if she did, she would get ideas. And anyone who knew Brooklyn knew that her ideas were not the best or brightest. They also usually included doing something that could completely dishonor her family if she was caught. But that's why she never got caught.

But she wouldn't think of Spot, so there would be no problems. Simple as that, no exceptions. She would just go take a visit to her uncle, and casually ask around for the leader of the Manhattan newsies, Jack Kelly. She had some questions to ask him.

She took her last bit of chocolate mousse cake and a sip of hot chocolate before excusing herself from the table. Quickly she made up to her room and she had Lily help change her. While brushing her long locks out, she walked out onto the balcony that her room had and looked around Brooklyn. Few people were walking below her. They walked quickly, probably wanting to get to the warmth of their houses. Freezing December air had brought in grey clouds, blocking the night sky. There was sure to be snow on the ground when she awoke.

♥♥♥♥♥

And surely there was. Brooklyn discovered her predictions of the weather correct. There was an inch of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down. She looked out her large windows briefly to see what kind of traveling weather it was. She wouldn't want to freeze poor Rupert or push their horses too far. That would be terribly selfish of her. But the snow was light, and it wasn't icing over. So perhaps it would be an easy ride. She would have to ask Rupert when she went.

Quickly Lily helped her dress in a thick wool outfit. Though it was wool on the inside, the outside showed an emerald green velvet dress. Her light honey hair was pulled up and twisted into a bun, and then an emerald green hat was perched upon it. She put on her winter boots; they were black with a wool lining.

When Brooklyn was dressed and had her face made-up, she descended the stairs and went to breakfast. She ate quickly, not adding a word to the conversation. Mary Ann and Antoinette were gabbing about how their neighbor, Mrs. Donahugh was still wearing straight-back corsets made of thick material. "All to make her look younger, the sham," her mother commented. Brooklyn closed her eyes to hide how she rolled them at this comment.

"I'm off to Uncle's, I'll make sure to send him your love," she said, excusing herself from the table. Mary Ann attempted to stop her from going, claiming it would be much too risky for travel. But Brooklyn stayed stubborn and insisted that she went. In the end, she won, much to the dismay of her mother.

So off she went. She slipped on her mink coat and leather gloves and then went out to Rupert. "Is it okay to travel to Uncle Joseph's today, Rupert?" she asked him, stroking the neck of one of the white horses, Prince, which pulled the carriage. "Will Prince and Keizer be alright in this weather?" The snow had lightened up, but there was still a significant amount on the ground.

"They'll be fine, miss," Rupert replied with a smile, patting the other white horse, Keizer. "And so will I. It will not be a favorable trip, but we'll make it through perfectly." Brooklyn smiled at the news and gave Prince a light peck on the shoulder. She gave words of thanks to Rupert as he opened the carriage door for her and she entered the sheltered warmth and the comfortable leather seats.

"We are going to Manhattan, correct?" he pulled down the guard glass to ask her. She nodded and helped him put it back up. She then settled into a seat by the window and let her green eyes gaze at those who were walking. As she saw the newsies, barely covered for the winter, her thoughts went to Spot. She didn't want them to be there, but how could she get them out?

"Rupert, could you stop for a second?" she asked Rupert in front of a garment shop. He nodded and she pushed up the glass guard. The carriage stopped and the door opened for her. Rupert helped her out and she walked into the store.

She bought a blue fleece long-sleeved shirt, a black scarf and some thick leather gloves. She didn't know what size shirt he was, so she just bought a large, figuring it would be warmer. The cashier eyed her, but she flashed her ring and said that it was for "a special someone". The man then smiled and let her on without question. She had them wrapped and then brought them back to the carriage. Though Rupert eyed the parcels, he did not question them. She put them under the seat and then as she felt the carriage move forward, sat down.

They hit the bridge and Brooklyn looked out eagerly. She loved the bridge. Riding over it made her feel on top of the world. Few people were on it today, for the winds would be fierce at this level for anyone who was uncovered. She felt horrible for putting Rupert, Keizer and Prince through this mess.

Something caught her eye. A blue shirt and red suspenders. As they passed the wearer of the clothes, she recognized it immediately as Spot. Quickly she went to the guard. Pulling it down she spoke quickly to Rupert. "Sorry for asking this again, but could you stop here? I see a friend who could use some help." Rupert nodded a little reluctantly. She didn't want to think of Spot, no, but she didn't want her friend to freeze, either.

She waited for Spot to be about five feet behind them to swing the door open and step out. "Spot," she called over the whirling winds of snow. He looked over to her and smiled. She motioned him over to the carriage and he quickly came. "Do you need a ride? Rupert and I would be glad to give you a ride."

"Yeah, I could tanks," he said. Then very gentlemanly he helped her into the carriage before sliding in himself. "Tanks a lot fer dis, it's a big help."

"It's no problem, Spot," Brooklyn replied. "Anything for a friend." She smiled as he smiled at her. "So where are you headed to?"

"Just 'round Manhattan," he replied. "I need ta finda friend of mine. Jack Kelly, eva hoid of him?"

"Ever hoid of him?" Brooke echoed with a slight enthusiasm in her tone. "He led the strike against my uncle. Of course I've heard of him! Then again, from my uncle I only heard bad things, but I think what he did for all you newsies was really wonderful. My uncle deserved what he got." Spot nodded and smirked with pride. "Do you think you could introduce me to him while we're in Manhattan?"

"Shoah," Spot replied. It took her a few moments before Brooklyn realized he had said "sure". His accent was especially thick on some words that it made it difficult to understand.

"Thank you," she replied with a smile. There was a few seconds silence as she stared out the window of the carriage. Presently they were traveling over the peak of the bridge, her favorite part.

"I love this bridge," she sighed, slightly breathless. It makes you feel like you're on top of the world."

"Yer just ridin in dis fancy carriage," Spot replied. He too was looking out the window. "Have chyou eva walked it?" Brooklyn shook her head. Her mother would never have allowed her to. "You have ta sometime, it makes ya feel like yer da King of da woild."

"You're already the King of Brooklyn," she joked. "You want the world too?" He nodded. "You think you could handle Brooklyn and the rest of the world?"

"Spot Conlon can handle anythen' the woild trows at 'em." Brooklyn chuckled at his prideful ego.

"Could you show me one day?" she asked him. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question. "Could you walk the bridge with me and show me what it's like to feel like you rule the world at the peak?"

"Woon't yer fiancéi not allow it?" he asked.

"He's my fiancé, not my commander," she replied. "Besides, what he won't know won't hurt him. And if he finds out, he'll just have to accept that you and I are friends." Spot gave a tom cat smile and agreed with a nod.

They hit a small bump on the way down and off the bridge. Besides bouncing in her seat, Brooklyn's parcels flew out from under the seats and onto the floor. She kneeled off of the seat and picked up two of the parcels and put them to her side. Spot handed her the third.

"Christmus prezsents?" Spot asked her. She nodded and her cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment. Noticing this, Spot questioned the behavior with a "What's da matta?"

"They're for you," she murmured, holding the parcels out for him. She didn't look at him, she tried to figure out the right words to say. "Well, they were supposed to be for Christmas, but since it's so cold out, why don't you take it now? Besides, it's in a week after all. So just call them early Christmas presents."

"I don't need anyone lookin' out fer me," he said defensively. Brooklyn's face fell and she muttered:

"Oh. Well they're nothing spectacular. If you don't want them, I can take them back," she offered. She was crestfallen, that was obvious. She didn't want it to look like charity, she just wanted to show that him that she did care about him. Now it wasn't love, but she wanted to show him that she didn't want him to get sick or freeze.

Now Spot was hard headed with the biggest Irish ego in New York. And he had broken so many hearts he couldn't count. And he didn't feel any pinch of remorse for them. But for some reason, he couldn't stand the way Brooklyn's face had fallen when he nastily rejected her Christmas presents.

"'ey, 'ey," he said quickly. "Lissun I'm…I just ain't used to takin prezsents from no one, okay?" He took the parcels out of her lap and then began to open them. He took the largest one first, which held the fleece shirt. As soon as he saw, his eyes widened slightly. He held it up to see the size. It was a bit big, but it was a good thought seeing as he would grow into the piece of clothing. He tossed it to the side, not showing how he was glad to have it. He then went for the smallest parcel.

He was surprised to find the thick leather gloves waiting for him within the wrapping. It showed on his face, his eyebrows had raised and his eyes had widened. He slipped one on his left hand. He seemed to be in some sort of trance as if he had forgotten Brooklyn was there. He flexed his hand in it before slipping it off. His face went expressionless once again.

He moved onto the last parcel, which held the scarf. Carefully he ripped off the paper and clutched the scarf when he brought it out. His blue eyes traced it carefully, as if looking for any flaw that would allow him to refuse the gifts.

"If you want me to bring them back, I will," Brooklyn offered. Spot looked up as if surprised of his surroundings. He seemed to become protective of his gifts as he shook his head.

"Nah, chyou don't halfta do dat," he replied. She smiled contently that he liked his gifts.

Spot's hands went to the collar of his shirt and he began to unbutton the shabby old thing. "Spot!" Brooklyn exclaimed in shock, looking away instantly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Uh…changin?" Spot replied as if he was talking to a young child, as if she had no common sense.

"Well that's obvious!" Brooklyn replied, staring out the window and covering her left eye with her left hand. "Could you warn me next time?"

"Is dere goin' ta be a next time?" Spot teased. Though she couldn't see him, she could tell he was smirking from the amount of ego that simply dripped from his words.

"No, Spot. Now hurry up and change," Brooklyn replied. She was smiling at his silly sense of humor. She just really hoped that Rupert didn't decide to look back into the carriage at this moment. Boy would he simply have a fit. And not only that, he would probably tell Mary Ann also. And boy would her mother raise hell because of it.

"Where do you want to be dropped off?" she asked him. "Unless of course, you wouldn't mind waiting in the carriage while I have tea with my uncle." She was talking to Spot, but looking at the window as he was still changing his shirt.

"I'm all drussed up," Spot said firstly. Brooklyn sighed contently and turned around. Though she knew it was improper to look, she couldn't turn her eyes away from sneaking a glance at his chest as he buttoned up the last three buttons to his new shirt. A muscled upper body was hidden beneath the new class.

"I'm dat good lookin', 'eh?" Spot said, causing Brooklyn to focus on his face. He was smirking with…was that satisfaction? She didn't want to seem like a little school girl with her first infatuation, so she quickly shook her head.

"I was not looking at you, Spot," she said quickly. She leaned forward and plucked an imaginary piece of lint off of his shirt and flicked 'it' off into the air. When she turned her head back to him, she was surprised to see that he had leaned in towards her. Their noses were millimeters from each other. He met her eyes, locking them with his.

"I ain't dat stupid, Brookie," he said with a tomcat smile playing the corners of his mouth. Brooklyn could feel her heart pounding against her chest. His voice dropped down to a whisper to make sure that he could make her listen to what he was going to say. "But don't chyou worry 'bout nuthin. I ain't gonna go tellin' nobody."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied primly, withdrawing herself back into a proper sitting position. He did the same thing, except he slouched into a comfortable position. His face still held the tomcat grin.

"Shoah, shoah," he replied as easily as if the words were silk. He seemed to snuggle his back into his new shirt, and though he couldn't put them on in the carriage, he had the scarf and gloves draped on his lap.

"Now where do you want to be dropped off?" she wanted to get off the rather uncomfortable topic and back onto solid ground.

"Dis restaurant," Spot said. He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name. "I don't 'member whats its called but I'll point it out if I sees it." Brooklyn nodded and moved to the front to tell Rupert. Spot described the restaurant, and it turned out that the driver knew where it was. He made a rather sharp turn and started right for it.

"How long will you be here?" Brooklyn asked as she opened the door for Spot. He hopped out and landed squarely on the ground. He turned to her and held out his hand. She slipped out of the carriage and took a step back from him, letting go of his hand. Though he had his back to the large restaurant window, she could see right passed him and clearly into it. They had gotten a few of newsies' attention, as they were staring out the window.

"I dunno," Spot said with a shrug of his shoulders. "'ow long will chyou be wit yer uncle?"

"Half an hour at the least," Brooklyn replied. "But I'll try not to stay too long, I'll make an excuse to leave early. I really want to meet Jack." Spot nodded his head and clutched his cane with his gloved hand.

"I'll keep Jacky-boy an' da rest of dem here as long as possibul," he replied. She nodded and thanked him.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," she said before disappearing back into her carriage. As she looked back when she looked through the window, she saw a tall dirty-blonde haired boy walked out and seemed to confront Spot. Though he was at least a head taller than him, Spot didn't flinch. He stared back at him and folded his arms in a protective manner.

The taller boy spit on his hand and held it out to Spot. Though he returned the favor, both of their movements were stiff, and seemed to hold something behind them. The taller boy seemed to say something in angry manner, but Brooklyn didn't get a chance to read them as the carriage jolted forward.

"I'm here to see Mr. Pulitzer," Brooklyn said as she walked into the office. Her hat was slightly tipped over her eyes, making her face not very visible. A pinched looking woman at the front desk squinted through sharp glasses. In a tight, high pitched voice, she spoke to Brooklyn.

"No one sees Mr. Pulitzer without an appointment," she said. Brooklyn chuckled and tipped up her hat.

"Excuse me, I do," she said in a terse tone. She never liked the secretary and she didn't strive to be nice to her. Without allowing her a word, she brushed passed the desk and to the stairs. Trotting up to the top, she was badly out of breath. She removed her hat and let her hair down from her bun. She never knew why, but her uncle didn't like to see her hair tied back in such a fashion.

She knocked on the door with a gloved hand. She heard someone coming towards the door so she removed her glove and plastered on her sweetest smile. "Uncle Joseph!" she said warmly as she embraced her dear Uncle.

"Brooklyn! Welcome, welcome," he led her into his office and to a chair in front of his desk. She perched daintily on top of it, she knew she had to be on her best behavior around her uncle. He called for tea, and then walked over to his desk and sat down. "So what brings you here today?"

"Oh, I just wanted to apologize for leaving your party early the other night," she said. "My headache vexed me though, so I figured it would be best if I went home."  
"It is quite alright my dear," Joseph replied. "But tell me about your current state." He smiled broadly. "I've heard you're engaged, my dear, how exciting!"

"Yes, I fare it is excellent news. Oh, thank you." she smiled as she accepted the china tea cup from her uncle's assistant.

"A smart match," Joseph added, toasting his tea. Brooklyn tapped her glass against his and nodded. All forced actions, but she performed them with a flawless effort.

"A very smart match," she replied. Quietly she added, "I suppose."

"You suppose?" Joseph replied in slight astonishment at his niece's reply. "It's a splendid match, my dear, no questions."

"All women have their questions, Uncle," Brooklyn replied gently. Her uncle chuckled and diverged her into a conversation about wedding details.

They chatted lightly for not even a half an hour before they were interrupted by one of Joseph's business associates. Though Joseph tried to postpone his meeting, Brooklyn offered to leave early. Her excuse: "I still have some Christmas to do, Uncle. Perhaps I'll stop by later if I can."

And with that perfect excuse, she left her uncle's office. She tossed the secretary a terse "Happy Christmas" and then left the building.

Rupert was giving Keizer and Prince some warm oats when she got out. "That was a rather quick visit, Miss., is everything quite alright?" She nodded and told him to bring her the restaurant they had left Spot at. She hadn't cared to learn the name of the place. He obliged and opened the carriage door for her. She thanked him and entered.

While inside the carriage, she fluffed up her appearance slightly. She made sure that her locks were silky smooth and that her make up was touched to perfection. In the process, she stopped. Why was she attempting to give herself a comely appearance for the newsies?

_It's not just for _any_ newsie, _a voice in her mind stated as she flipped her hair back. _It's for Spot._

**Shut your mouth, you have no idea what you are talking about. **The more practical part of her admonished.

_I am simply a thought, a conscious, I haven't got a mouth._ The first voice replied in a manner of somewhat superiority.

**Well then simply be quiet.**

_Make me._

"Enough!" Brooklyn exclaimed out loud.

"Miss?" it was Rupert's voice. Brooklyn looked to the door. It was open and her driver was there to escort her out. They were in front of the restaurant, she could see the newsies conversing within. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine, Rupert," she replied. She gave thanks to him when he helped her out and then added that she would not be long.

She entered the small restaurant and in a flurry of hands she saw all the newsies remove their hats. Spot was at her side in seconds. The taller boy that she had seen before was in front of her only a second shy of him.

"Brooklyn, dis is Jacky-boy," Spot introduced. "But mosta us calls 'em Cowboy. Jacky-boy, dis is Brooklyn Pulitzer." The restaurant went silent at her last name. But all she could do was smile.

"Jack Kelly!" she said with enthusiasm as she held out her hand. He shook hers a bit cautiously, not sure what to make of her. "Finally I meet the newsie that gave my uncle just what he deserved. Congratulations on winning the strike. I was on your side since day one." The mood lightened as soon as Jack smiled at her.

She was instantly introduced to the Manhattan newsies. And boy there were a lot of them. There was David, Les, Racetrack, Mush, Skittery, Kid Blink, Boots, Snitch, Specks, Crutchy, Snipeshooter and oh gosh so many more. Too many to learn in five minutes. When they wanted to get the gang together, they got the _whole_ gang together.

"An' den, an' den," the Italian, Racetrack said as he took a swig of Cola. Brooklyn was surrounded by the boys, and they were telling her stories of the strike. While they were all lounging on their chairs, swigging their drinks, Brooklyn sat perched in hers, sipping water. Spot sat next to her protectively. Anyone who looked at her funny got the Conlon glare. And if looks could kill, they would have been an incinerated mess on the floor.

"Sos Spot goes, 'yer honor, I object,'" Racetrack continued. "An' dis judge, a real uptight richie, ya know da type, right?"

Before he could continue, she spoke up. "Race, I live with that type." The guys chuckled.

"Sos anyways," Race continued. "The judge goes 'on what grounds?'. An' dis guy ova 'ere," he gave Spot a playful shove on the shoulder. "He goes 'on da grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor'!" Brooklyn laughed along with the rest of the newsies, looking over at Spot, who was practically glowing with ego.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "But den dis guy," he pointed a thumb at Racetrack. "Offas to roll da guy double or nothen' for our fine of five bucks." She chuckled and took another sip of water.

They were all laughing about stories from either the strike or their normal routines. Brooklyn was really loosing up, slightly slouching and no longer sipping her drink. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around. It was Jack, looking at her. She Spot turn to him to and glare out of the corner of her eye.

"Can I tawk ta ya?" he asked her. "In a littul miore privacy?" she nodded and got up, walking after him as Jack led her away from the group. She glanced over and noticed Spot watching his every move.

"Yeah, yeah. Yer new friend is watchin' us real close," said Jack, ignoring the King of Brooklyn all together. "An' he'z just the guy I wanna tawk at ya bout."

"Okay," she replied slowly. A million things ran through her mind that Jack could possibly want to talk to her about.

"Look, I don't wanna see a nice goil like chyou getten' hoit by someone like Spot," Jack said. Brooklyn cocked her head to side, and was about to say something when Jack put up his hand to silence her. "Look, chyou don't know Spot like I does. He could have any of da goils in Noo Yoik if he wanted ta. He'z real good at breakin' harts, so be careful." Brooklyn nodded. For some reason, she wasn't surprised at the news about her friend.

"Oh an' Brooklyn?" Jack said. "I just wanna let chyou know what ta watch out for. Spot doesn't care bout da goils he hoits, so ya gotta make shoah ya don't get too close wit him. Coz he'z good at playin mind games and he'll get chyou all comfy wit him before he hits ya hard an' fast." She nodded, now rather tentative about going back to Spot.

"Dat's my only warnin," Jack said. "An' we won't tawk bout it again, got it? 'Less it's real important." Brooklyn nodded and Jack put a hand on her back and pushed her back towards the boys.

Spot was waiting expectantly when she got back. He moved his chair closer to her, warning Jack away with a glare. But Brooklyn pretended not to notice. She smiled and laughed with the newsies, but Jack's words kept repeating in the back of her mind.

Jack's warning was one warning she would heed.

**Author's Note: I am on a roll with this fic! It's all I can think about, and I find myself writing it during class when the teacher stops talking (heehee). Chapter five should be out soon, if I keep writing at this pace.**


	5. The Bells Chime

-1**Chapter Five**

The Bells Chime

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I'd be a bit richer if I did and I would NOT be writing fan fiction. Use your heads, dearies._

_**Author's Note:**** Sorry for the slight delay, my life's bee a bit wooo lately and with the holidays it was really hard to get this chapter done with the same quickness as the passed four chapters.**_

It was six days ago that Brooklyn was practically dragged out of the restaurant by Dimitri, Cal's man servant. Apparently he was under strict orders from Cal, and she had to obey. Sure Brooklyn put up one hell of a good fight, but it was no use embarrassing herself. Dimitri was a retired police officer and a lot stronger than she. Though Spot was just about to beat the hell out of him, she stopped him and told him that it would only make the situation worse.

And Spot backed off. Not. As soon as they had their backs turned to him, he quickly strung marbles on his wooden sling shot and fired marbles at Dimitri's lower back side until the man servant let go of Brooklyn. Cowboy then grabbed her and started running, but she stopped him and told him that she couldn't run away. She explained how they'd find her in days and that the newsies would be charged with kidnapping and worse if Cal had his way. So Cowboy nodded and let her go.

"Do ya wanna go back der?" he asked her as he snuck her around to her carriage to escape Dimitri. Spot was taunting him and the older man was trying to strangle the King of Brooklyn. A retired police officer he was, but his old legs were no match for the street-smart agility of the newsies.

"No, but I have to Cowboy," she replied climbing in. "Tell Spot and the rest of the Newsies that I said farewell and thank you." Cowboy nodded and closed the carriage door. "Bring me home immediately Rupert," she said quickly. The driver nodded but turned to her.

"Is everything alright Miss?" he asked her. Shaking her head, she clutched her hand to in a fist, her nails digging into her palm.

"No, Rupert," she replied tersely. "Everything is not alright." The driver nodded and sped up the horses. She put the glass up and sat back in her chair as any young lady shouldn't. She slumped in her seat with her shoulders rolled forward and her head tilted towards her feet. After that interesting encounter with Dimitri, she was too exasperated to care about lady-like qualities.

-----------------------------

And now she sat alone in the library by the fire and the gallantly decorated pine tree. It had poinsettia chains rapping around it and silver snow ornaments. And on top was a beautiful crystal star. Precisely this star was what Brooklyn's green eyes were locked out. They were glassed over, showing her boredom. She would have rather been ripping out her roots than being all alone in the library.

A Christmas Carol was open on her lap, but she paid no attention to her favorite author's work. She just stared at the star with a sort of longing in her bored eyes. She wanted to get out again; she was practically under house arrest because of her behavior with the newsies. Apparently a friend of Cal's had seen her with them and told him immediately. And then he told Dimitri to go and fetch her.

She wondered what she would have been doing at this very moment if she had run away. She would probably be cold and hungry, but at least she would be with people who she thought actually cared for her. The only thing her family cared about was money and politics. Her mother certainly favored Antoinette over her, and showed it constantly. Her twin was always receiving large, extravagant gifts while she was left with smaller ones. They still held quite the price tag, but were not worth emotionally the same amount.

And then there was Cal. He only cared for her beauty and the Pulitzer name. Her emotions, her thoughts and feelings were thrown out into the cold like an unwanted pet by a cruel owner.

She stood up, sighing pitifully. Walking to the window, she stared out blankly. The carriage and the horses were not in the side yard, so her mother and sister had to be out and away. Cal was on business in Queens. Now anyone would think that she could make a run for it, but that was impossible. Dimitri was standing right outside the library door, standing watch over her.

How she longed to stretch her legs on the streets and see Spot again. She missed her small chats with him. He had surprised her with his street knowledge and his opinionated self. She had always thought newsies were mere servants to the rich, uneducated and wrongly opinionated. Well that was before the strike. When the strike broke out, she realized their power and strength. Though she still doubted their intellect, she knew that they had cunning and their opinions mattered. And then when she met Spot, she found that they were educated, just in a different fashion. They were self-taught, and the lessons that they learned were vital to their survival.

As she mulled about in her memories of her conversations with the King of Brooklyn, a feeling of forlorn for her friend. She couldn't talk to anyone around here, and if she did it was spread about like wildfire within days. Her friends couldn't be trusted, not anymore. They had gotten too close to Antoinette and were now gossiping hens as well.

So she had no one. She was living a dull pathetic life with no one to let in a single ray of pure sunshine. Sighing loudly she walked over to the door and opened it. Dimitri was immediately in front of her, glaring down at her.

"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" he asked her tersely.

"To my room, Dimitri," Brooklyn replied quietly. "Feel free to follow me and guard that door as well." She walked off, not surprised when she heard his echoing her steps. Walking into her room she slammed it behind her and locked it. She didn't trust the man servant; he scared her in all truth.

Walking over to her balcony, she pulled back the long windows and walked out onto the stone. Staring down at the city below her leaned on the balcony, her hand cradling her cheek. She glanced down and sighed. She wasn't high up at all, only on the second story of their three story mansion.

Maybe she could jump.

_No,_ she thought to herself. _That would cause too much commotion and would most likely result in a mess. _She sighed loudly once more and stared down at the streets. Not many people were on the streets that morning. One or two carriages passed by, but other than that the streets were practically deserted. Three newsies called out the headlines to the few that were walking, their voices quivering from the cold air.

Spot. She saw him before he saw her. He was dressed warmly in the garments she had bought him, and he was waving the newspaper high above his head. His voice wasn't quivering as it had the warmth of the scarf. She sighed in relief and then glanced behind her. For some reason she had gotten the crazy idea that she was being watched. But she wasn't being watched, she was being listened to. So she didn't make a sound as she walked over to her bed.

She ruffled the sheets and comforter. "Dimitri, I'm taking a nap," she called, forcing a yawn for extra effect. She didn't get any reply from the man servant, so she stealthily walked around her room and grabbed a small cushion that was formally the cushion for her engagement ring. Walking over to the rail, she stared down, waiting for the precise moment.

She dropped it.

Spot's head snapped up, his eyes sharp with immediate anger from being hit in the head while he wasn't even looking. She quickly put her finger to her lips to tell him to shush before he could yell at her. "Don't make a sound," she mouthed. "I'm being watched." He nodded, but gave a weird look as she looked behind her.

"Can you wait there for a few minutes?" she whispered to him hoarsely. He nodded and she disappeared back into her room.

She exited her room to find Dimitri gone. Quickly she locked her door, slipping her key into a pocket. She removed her shoes so that she could run silently out of house. She made it to the front door and grabbed her coat. She slipped her shoes back on and left the house.

The breath of cold air collided with her lungs like a brick. But it felt wonderful to breath clean, unused air once more. When her green eyes saw Spot, she couldn't help herself. She flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "It's so good to see you again, Spot." He patted her back twice lightly and she came to herself.

"Do ya want me ta be ovatrone coz da guys saw chyou huggin me like dat?" he asked her as she blushed and brushed some off imaginary dust.

"Sorry," she said, still brushing that 'dust' off of her dress. She waited for her cheeks to cool before looking up to her favorite newsie. Though he had scolded her slightly, his blue eyes showed bright and amused. He removed his hat respectfully.

"Sos, where have chyou been Brookie?" he asked her, turning and starting to walk away. He made a jerking shoulder movement, signaling her to follow him. She did, like a pathetic puppy. She needed to talk to him, anyone from outside her mansion.

"Stuck in the house with Dimitri around to make sure I don't leave," Brooklyn replied. "You must remember Dimitri, he's the one that dragged me out of the restaurant six days ago. You were torturing him so, it was quite the hilarious sight, seeing him grabbing for you as you leaped about on the tables. Thank you for trying to get me out of there."

"Why didn'tcha go wit Cowboy?" he asked her. He was leading her around, his eyes set on the path before him. She glanced between him and in front of her.

"Because my parents and the police would have known exactly where to look," she replied. "And if Cal had his way, you would have been charged for kidnapping me. And if he knew the judge, he would have been able to convince him that you had raped me and that I was too upset or something to go to court."

"Whata bonehead," Spot snapped sharply. "I neva touched chyou once an' he coulda got me in da refuge wit dose charges? Dat bastad." Brooklyn turned her eyes to the newsie. She was not used to hearing that sort of language around her. He didn't look at her, yet he seemed to know that she was watching him. "I ain't changin my woids fer yas, so don't even ask." Though anyone would have found that rude, Brooklyn seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Good," she replied. "I hate not being treated like an equal with men." Spot shrugged his shoulders and turned them down a few streets.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Her mother and sister would not be out all day, and Dimitri was likely to get suspicious. She couldn't stay out too long.

"You'll see, don't chyou rich folks got any patience?" Spot didn't seem frustrated, but absolutely nonchalant.

"I have patience, but Dimitri doesn't," she replied. "I told him I was taking a nap and he's bound to get suspicious why it's such a long nap. Not to mention my mother and sister will be home in about an hour."

"Den we'll walk fasta," he replied, picking up pace in his steps. She followed his example, keeping step with him. Up ahead, she saw Amelia's carriage coming there way. She recognized it because her family were the only family to have one black horse and one white. Quickly she pulled Spot into a tight alley space and turned her back to the street. She'd be lucky if her friend did not notice her. The space between the two buildings was tight and the two were pushed together. When she brought her green eyes up to Spot's face, she found him to be smirking down at her.

"Don't you dare do anything," she told him sternly.

"Do chyou know me ta be a guy dat follows anyone elses ordas but his own?" he smirked, tracing his fingers slowly in a wavy line down her cheek. She couldn't move her hand up to slap him away with enough force, and yet a part of her didn't want to. The feel of his touch sent hot shivers to her spine, and she liked the feeling. There eye locked, and she had a feeling he was going to kiss her. And what scared her the most was that she wouldn't stop him if he did.

"_He'll get chyou all comfy wit him before he hits ya hard an' fast," _Jack's warning raced through her head and she backed up and out of the alley. She looked around, relieved to find that the carriage had disappeared up the street. She took a deep breath before looking to Spot and smiling as if nothing had almost happened just there in that alleyway.

"So, Spot," she said pleasantly. "You were leading me somewhere."

"Yeah, yeah," he replied as he followed her out. The smirk on his face told her that he wouldn't forget that lightly. But he dropped the subject right there and continued to lead her on.

As they began to walk down a main street, she knew where he was taking her. Heck, she could see its tall arches from where she stood. She smiled knowingly to herself and continued to follow Spot as if she had not a clue in the world.

Soon they were faced with the large ramp. "Thank you, Spot," she said quietly. He simply nodded and continued walking. She followed him eagerly. Her feet were hurting her terribly, she had never walked this much as she was usually being chauffeured around in a carriage. But she kept on walking, determined to feel like 'The King of the World' as Spot had described it.

"Look straight down atcha feets," he instructed her. "An don't chyou worry, dere ain't no fancy carriages comin our way." She nodded and stared down at her feet, only at her feet. Spot met her side with his and guided her in such away. If he moved, she moved to meet shoulders with him.

They had walked at a slight incline for about fifteen minutes, and Brooklyn was beginning to get curious. She wanted to see and feel what it was like to walk the bridge. Even though she technically was walking the bridge, she couldn't see anything but her feet so she felt as if it didn't count.

Spot suddenly stopped and she followed his lead. "Close yer eyes," he said quietly. She followed his instructions and closed her eyes, but lifting her chin as if she was to look straight out in front of her. He took her sides and turned her. "Take a step up an' take hold of da railin'." She followed his instructions and grasped the railing as she lifted herself up onto the first rail. She felt Spot wrap his arms around her stomach and bring himself closer to keep her from falling. They were probably even in height since the rail had added four inches to her.

"Open," he whispered in her ear, as if to add a special effect to the moment. Slowly she opened her eyes, gasping with the splendor the cities took to them in the sunset. The water glistened to emerald, looking like a jewel Brooklyn could pluck out and put on a necklace or bracelet.

"_He'll get chyou all comfy wit him before he hits ya hard an' fast," _the warning played into her mind once more, and she became stiff at Spot's protective hold. She took a last look around at the beautiful scene around her and a large gulp of air. She then stepped down from her rail and slid out of the newsie's hold.

"Thank you Spot," she said, taking a few steps back from him. She twirled around slowly, wanting to soak everything in. The chance to walk the bridge would come to her never again, as her mother and Cal would find it too dangerous to be done. She would be condemned to a life of carriage riding. "This was a really grand thing you've done for me."

"What's da matta wit chya?" he asked her, ignoring her thanks and becoming annoyed that she had backed away from him. "Are ya afraida me or somethin?" He was in a hostile stance, his fists clenched and his back rigid. Brooklyn considered many excuses to offer, but she found she could not find one.

"Well," she said, her voice dropping down to a meek tone. "It's just that Cowboy told me some things about you and-"

"Who have chyou knowed longa?" Spot cut her off quickly. "Who da ya tink chyou can trust moire?"

"Well, Cowboy said that you like to gain girls' trust and then break there hearts," she said quietly. "I don't want my heart broken, Spot." Spot opened his mouth to speak but then stopped himself.

"Are chyou sayin dat I've got dat hart of yers?" Brooklyn shook her head quickly, though she knew she was lying.

"No," she replied immediately, a little too quickly. "You don't. But, well, I…" she didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. She saw her carriage at the end of bridge, about three hundred yards down.

"Oh no," she said, her eyes widening. She had no idea they had gone out to Manhattan. "Spot, you have to get me home immediately." He turned around and saw what she had seen.

"Shit," he mumbled. Quickly he grabbed her arm and sprinted off. "We's got no time fer chyou ta go faintin on us so don't even tink bout it." She smiled at his wit and ran along side him.

"Wait," she said quickly. They stopped and she removed her shoes to make it easier to run. They resumed their sprint and ran to the end of the bridge. When they were down the ramp taking a quick breather, the carriage had just hit the peak. The horses were at a trot, and would catch up to them if they did not act quickly.

They set off again, both silently hoping they had not been seen. As they ran through the streets they took many sharp turns. People stared as they passed, and Brooklyn would just put her head down and hoped they would not recognize them running in such a matter. As they rounded a turn, Spot stopped to talk to a Newsie.

"Splash, when chyou see da Pulitza carriage, do whateva ya can ta stop it," he ordered the newsie. The taller boy didn't even hesitate before jogging away. Spot then quickly pulled Brooklyn behind him, cutting through back alleyways and random streets Brooklyn believed she had never ventured down.

And yet like magic, her mansion seemed to appear in front of them. Spot let go of her and pushed her towards the door. And yet, she was hesitant. She looked back at him and then to the mansion. "Spot," she whispered. "I don't want to go back there." He seemed to brighten slightly at these words. He held out his hand.

"I could make chyou dissapeia," he said encouragingly. She shook her head.

"No," she said. "Not now. Can you meet me a block down at eleven thirty tonight?" she asked him. He nodded.

"Are ya shoah?" he asked her. She nodded in a determined fashion. Digging into her small purse, she held out a few dollars.

"I'm trusting you with this," she said. "Go and buy me men's clothing. Pants, a shirt like yours, shoes, gloves, a scarf and of course a hat. Can I trust you with this?" He took the money and nodded. "If there is money left over, you can use it. But _only _if there is money left over, you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Spot replied, counting the amount of money he now held in his hand. She thanked him quickly and then escaped into the house. She was immediately confronted by a pacing Dimitri and she did her best to hide her panting.

"Where were you miss?" he demanded, approaching her.

"Why, Dimitri," she said in her sweetest tone. "Don't you remember? I told you that I was going for a quick walk. I offered for you to follow me, but you refused." The man-servant looked utterly confused. "No? Man you are losing your nerve." With that, she called for Lily and her servant backed her up. She smirked and then had Lily escort her upstairs, as she didn't trust Dimitri to.

When they reached her room, she had Lily set her a bath and savored the warm water. She knew that this bath would probably be the last one she experienced in porcelain bathtub in a long time, possibly the last one ever. And as for the warm water, she doubted she would get much of that either.

"Thank you Lily," she said to the servant as she dressed for bed. "I am quite tired, I'm going to bed. Please tell the others to leave me be for the night." The servant nodded and left the room. Her ginger terrier hopped up onto the bed, curling up next to her master. But Brooklyn was not going to sleep, as she had told her servant she was going to. Instead, she sat up with her candle lit, writing a letter.

**Dear Mother, Antoinette and Cal,**

**Over the passed two weeks I have realized that I do not belong here with you in Brooklyn. I have come to find that I simply despise all of you and miss Father dearly. I have absolutely no intention of marrying Cal(I am therefore leaving the ring), and you'll have drag me out of Sleepy Hollow to make me.**

**Yes, I am off to Aunt Muriel's and Uncle Frederick's house. If you follow me, I will know and I will run further. I can run far further and faster than you, as Father's side of the family loves me and cares for my well being, unlike you. You simply want me to become a gossiping wench like one of yourselves. Well I have the intention of making something of my life, so therefore I cannot stay here.**

**I would say that I loved you all dearly and would miss you, but then I would be lying. And Father always taught me not to lie. Take good care of Rose for me, as Aunt Muriel hates dogs I can simply not take her with me.**

**Your former daughter,**

**Brooklyn**

With a swish of her fountain pen she ended her letter. She slipped her large ring off her finger and rolled up the parchment she had been writing on. She slipped the ring over the parchment as a hold and placed that on her bed side table. Now all she had to do was wait for the proper time.

The clock chimed out eleven times, and she knew that it was almost time. She collected a few hair ties and slipped them around her wrist. She gave Rose the biggest hug she could without squashing the poor terrier and kissed her nose. She then placed the dog down on the bed and put the not on her pillow.

Sneaking out of her room, she tiptoed down the hall. She was extra careful not to make a sound opening and closing the doors and then sprinted away down the block. The only light was the dim candle streetlights, and yet she could tell that the figure in the shadows was Spot. He stepped into the light and caught her by her upper arms.

"I did it," she panted with a proud grin on her face.

"Yeah, yeah, chyou did it," Spot said quickly. "Now let's get chyou outta here an to da lodgin' house 'fore any bulls comes along." She nodded and followed him along the streets.

"Spot wait," she said, holding him aside. He looked around cautiously. They were near one of the streetlights, and he was still on the nervy side about getting caught. She locked eyes with the newsie and quietly whispered, "I trust _you_." Of course she spoke from before, when she had told him about Jack's warning.

And what happened next, she didn't see happening. "Good ta know," he said huskily. He then grabbed waist and brought her to him. He dipped his head down and locked her lips with his. Though she was surprised, Brooklyn didn't resist or hesitate. She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

And somewhere off in the distance, the chiming of church bells could be heard, ringing in the birth of Jesus Christ. They resounded all through Brooklyn, and the young girl thought in the back of her mind that the chiming of these church bells meant the world was at peace for three moments.

And on so, the bells chimed in Brooklyn.

**Author's Note: A very fluffy chapter, I know. But hey, I needed to get this out. My life is a little bit on the crazy side right now, so I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be out. It will be out as soon as possible, I can promise you that.**


	6. I'll Make a Man Out of You

-**Chapter 6**

I'll Make a Man Out of You

_Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Newsies. Do you guys have to rub it in every _

_chapter? Do you think that is fair?_

Brooklyn came to her senses when Spot asked for entrance into her mouth with his tongue. "Spot," she mumbled. "No." She turned her head away and pushed away from him. "This is suicide. We can't get this close. Cal already knows I'm friends with you, and if the bulls see a blonde girl that's close to you, they'll put two and two together."

Spot wore a face of stone so she couldn't read any emotion going through his head. But he nodded and grabbed her arm, taking a sharp turn down a dark alley. "Don't get all scad on me now," he said as she stiffened. She relaxed her arm slightly, but her chest was still tight.

But the alleyway opened up and they were in front of a large building. A large sign hung over the entrance. In faded letters it read; BROOKLYN BOYS LODGING HOUSE. Spot led her in and straight to a desk, where a withered looking man was tending to books. "Jackson," Spot said. "Dis is da goil I was talkin' ta ya about. But dere's been a changa plans." The old man paid attention, leaning forward.

"Where are dos packajes I gave ta ya befoe?" Jackson ducked under the desk momentarily, bring back out a few wrapped parcels. Spot took them in his arms and then motioned for Brooklyn to follow him out of the lodging house. She was about to go when she felt a tug at her nightdress. She turned around to find little Germ looking up at her with his big, soft eyes.

"Where ya goin? Aren'tcha gonna stay wit us lady?" Brooklyn nodded.

"I am going to stay with you, Germ, don't worry," she said warmly. "I just don't know what Spot's got up his sleeve right now. I'll see you soon." She hugged the little boy and before she could say goodbye she was ripped away by a strong arm.

"Dere's no time fer dat now, Brookie, we gotta get outta here," she nodded and followed him like a loyal little puppy. Well, like a puppy minus the adoration. She allowed herself to be pulled behind him.

"Where are we going?" she asked him as they headed up the ramp of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Well I figad dat what chyou said befoe was true," he replied, keeping his quick pace. "Yer family knows dat chyou've been hangin round wit me sos I guessed dat dey wud look at da lodgin howse foist."

"Wow, I never thought of that, Spot," Brooklyn admitted. "But Cal and his silly man servant know that I've associated with the Manhattan newsies also."

"Yeah yeah I know," Spot replied in a nonchalant tone. "Dats why as soon as dem bulls back offa our lodgin howse, I'll get ona da guys ta 'refer' dem bulls ta Cowboy's howse an we'll move ya back ta Brooklyn." Brooklyn nodded and continued at Spot's pace. She took a notice that he had not let go of her upper arm. And she thanked the Lord for the night, because she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. She had to be as red as a tomato.

She stopped at the peak of the bridge abruptly, causing Spot to stop to. "ey, 'ey," he said. "We can't go stoppin now." He was about to say something else, but he stopped when he saw the look on her face. He seemed to realize he was still holding her arm and let go. She was floored with the view. The river was black as coal, but shimmered and shone like a diamond. A few lights lit up the larger buildings and they looked like distant fireflies. Her jade green eyes sparkled in delight.

"I'm sorry, Spot, I just love the view," she said breathlessly.

"I know ya do," he replied. He took her arm and started pulling her away. "But now dat yer free chyou can see it whenevas chyou wants ta. Now we's gotta get goin." Brooklyn nodded and allowed him to pull her along. They stayed in the shadows because there were police officers patrolling the bridge.

When they got off of the ramp, Spot led her to a back alley. "Hey! You there!" a shouting voice from behind startled the two. Spot pushed Brooklyn in front of him and urged her to run. He turned down an alley and brought her behind a dumpster. He had his arms protectively around her waist and held her tightly against him so they were as flat against the wall as possible. She felt his chest raising and falling and realized they were breathing in time with each other.

It was when the police officer left that Brooklyn realized that if felt right to be in Spot's arms. It was when he gently pushed her away when she realized she didn't want him to let go. _Don't you go thinking like that,_ she thought to herself. _You can't go thinking of him like that when you're going to be _living_ with him soon._

So she shook her head slightly and followed Spot where he led. Soon they were at a building similar to the one that he had showed her in Brooklyn. Above the entrance it read; BOYS LODGING HOUSE. His blue eyes searched the ground briefly. When he found a small pebble, he picked it up and tossed it lightly at one of the top windows. He whistled as he picked up a few more and kept tossing them, nailing his target every time. Finally there was shadow at the window, and just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. Spot then ceased his pebble tossing but kept his whistling.

In no time the front door opened and a very disgruntled Italian newsie appeared. Brooklyn recognized him from six days ago as Racetrack. His black hair was ruffled and his eyes were puffy. His pants were on backwards and his suspenders were twisted. A half-smoked cigar was sticking out the corner of his mouth. His black eyes were focused on Spot, he didn't seem to notice her. "What da hell do chyou tink yer doin Conlon?!" he exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "Its like ona clock in da mornin! Are chyou a freakin bonehead or somethin?"

"ey! Watch da mouth Race!" Spot admonished, putting his arm out and pushed the other newsie back. "Dere's a lady wit us!" He motioned with his thumb to Brooklyn, who had ignored the language. _Apparently Spot doesn't have to change his language, but everyone else does,_ she thought with a smile.

"Good to see you again, Race," she said with a small smile. Race looked surprised as he shook her hand.

"Hey, sorry toots, I didn't see chyou der," he said.

"No harm, no foul," Brooklyn replied to him, dropping his hand.

"Sos what can I do fer chyou guyses?" he asked Spot.

"Go get Jacky-boy, Race, tell 'im Spot needs ta see 'im now," Spot replied.

"Ya gotta be kiddin me Spot," the Italian replied.

"Does it looks like I'm kiddin chyou Race?" Spot warned. He encroached on the shorter boy. "Go get Jacky-boy. Now." Racetrack put his hands up, muttering things about how he didn't want to get physical in front of 'da lady' and retreated inside. It may not have been the most mature way to get what he wanted, but somehow she was impressed by the power he held over the others. And he was younger than the others also, only seventeen while the other leaders commanded eighteen or nineteen years. She only knew this because Spot couldn't help but boasting about the face on one of their little chats.

She didn't make a sound, she just stood there staring at the red brick of the building. As she heard the bark of a small dog in the distance her heart sunk. It had been a mere two hours and already she was homesick. Well not homesick, dog sick was more the correct phrase. The bark didn't even sound like Rose's, and yet it reminded her of it.

"She was my birthday present," she hadn't realized that she said that out loud until Spot looked over.

"What didya say?" he asked her, his eyes trained on her.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself," Brookyln replied. "It has only been two hours and I already miss my little dog, Rose. You've met her before. It's just that I've had her since I was ten and she was my best friend. My father had given her to me. I had always wanted a white dog, but since my birthday is in January, he thought it would be best to get a dog that wouldn't 'get lost in the snow'."

She smiled at the memory of her father. She looked to Spot, who had his eyebrows raised skeptically. She chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry, Spot, you must find me terribly pathetic. But besides Amelia, whom I could hardly trust when she became friends with my sister, Rose was my only friend. Sure there were girls I would talk to at parties and galas and such, but they weren't really friends."

"What 'bout me?" he asked her with a smirk. "I tought chyou said dat we were friends." He didn't seem angry, more like he was teasing her than anything.

"Of course you're my friend, Spot," she replied with a smile. Even if he was teasing her (and she knew it), she was taking this seriously. "But a girl-to-dog relationship is something totally different. Sure I prefer people but people break hearts and stab backs, dogs don't." She sighed. "I'm going to miss not having a dog around."

Spot looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment the door flew open and a furious-looking Jack Kelly came storming out of the lodging house. His eyes were set on Spot, annoyance lacing them. "What da hell couldn'ta had waited till mornin Spot?" he said. He acknowledged Brooklyn with a wave with one hand while his eyes were still on the King of Brooklyn.

"I need chyou ta take Brookie here in fer me fer a few weeks," he said, handing Jack the parcels he was holding. "Dese are her clothes. Make shoah she fits in comfatably here, or it'll be yer head."

"Big threats fer dis late at night, Spot, what didya do dat's so bad?" Cowboy was smirking, knowing the hot-headed Brooklyn Newsie well enough not to be afraid of his threats.

"I ran away," Brooklyn cut in quickly. "And Spot helped me. He figured that since my parents know that we're friendly, they'll keep a close eye on the Brooklyn Lodging House. Not much attention will be paid over here in Manhattan. And when they loosen up over there, I'll go back to Brooklyn."

"If yer gonna go trew all dat trouble, why dontcha just stay wit us in Manhattan?" Cowboy asked.

"We're still tinkin of a plan, Cowboy," Spot said in an almost warning tone. "We'll see where dis takes us. Who knows? She might just wind up hangin round here. But da ting is dat dey know she's been here befoe sos dey might check."

"I wrote a note saying that I'm going up to Sleepy Hollow, but I doubt that will be good enough for my mother and Cal -my ex fiancé-," Brooklyn filled in. "But I think they will pay attention to Spot. I can't be seen with him for a while, just because Cal's man servant was an ex-cop and could arrest him on charges much worse than kidnapping or assisted runaway." Jack nodded, seemingly considering their plan. He put down the parcels and then nodded to himself.

"Okay, we'll take ya in, Brookie," he said, "on a few…uh…what's da woid?" he snapped is fingers a few times. "Uh…"

"Conditions?" Brooklyn filled in questioningly.

"Yeah, dose," Jack replied. "Chyou listen ta me no matta what, gottit? Dere's lots a stuff out dere dat could hoit a little richie like chyou, even if ya don't look like one." Brooklyn nodded, accepting the terms. "Yer gonna loin from me, which means two tings, okay? It means datcha neva gonna leave my sides less I tells ya to. It also means dat chyou'll be learnin from da best -don't interupt me while I'm talkin, Spot- which means chyou should feel honored, got it?" She raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"Thoid conditiun," he said. He took her arm and moved her away from Spot. The Brooklyn boy glared hard at him but Jack waved him off and took Brooklyn a little farther away from him. His back was to Spot. He removed his arm and then spoke to her in a hushed tone. "Spot doesn't always use dat head he's got on his shouldas, okay? He acts on pride, not on strategy a lot of da times so chyou listun ta me now okay? He's a great leada an' everyting an I trust him wit my life, but wit chyou he's gonna get protective an' get lip from his newsies, so be ready ta fight ta hold ta yer plan. Neva back down from da plan less Spot and me both says so, got it?"

She nodded in a hurried fashion. "Good, now let's get back ta Spot befoe he teas me apat." She followed Jack back to Spot, who was tapping his cane loudly in an impatient manner.

"What was dat thoid conditiun, Jacky-boy?" he asked in an agitated tone as he approached Jack.

"Nuthin chyou gotta worry yerself about Spot," he replied. "Now I'm lettin Brookie 'ere stay wit us, sos chyou betta be grateful. An' I betta hear sumthin moie about dis plan by sunset, Spot. I don't wanna be puttin my newsies inta anytin stupid cause chyou rushed inta sometin stupid fer a goil." Brooklyn again thanked the Lord for the night as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks for the second time that night.

Spot seemed to hold himself back from saying something nasty. Instead he mumbled, "Tanks, Jacky-boy." The two boys spit-shook and Jack told Brooklyn that it was time into the lodging house and get this plan under way.

"Be careful getting home, Spot," Brooklyn said as she threw her arms around him in a hug. "Make sure that no bulls see you or that may lead Cal straight here." He gave her a half-hearted squeeze and a pat on the back. He was obviously trying to keep his King of Brooklyn, bad-boy façade. So she backed off with a mumble of apologies. Jack had picked up the parcels and was motioning to the door.

Before she entered the building, she turned to see Spot, who was watching them like a hawk. "Thank you so much, Spot," she said gratefully. She barely saw him return her thanks with a wave when Jack pushed her inside.

"Let's get chyou upstairs an see if we can getcha a bed wit a little more privacy," he mumbled. The time of night was obviously getting to him as his words slurred together and his step lacked.

They climbed a series of stairs and then came to a large room. Bunk beds were everywhere, each one being used by a boy that was staying at the lodging house. But Jack moved passed them all, and Brooklyn followed him. He led to the back of the room in a corner. There was one bunk bed left with no one to use it.

"I guess dat'll be yer bunk," he mumbled. "Does chyou want da top or da bottem?"

"Bottom," Brooklyn replied. "I have a slight tendency to roll when I sleep." She walked over to the bed and look down on it. Though the covers were straggly and the mattress was thin, nothing looked more inviting. A surge of tiredness had waved over the teenager, and she wanted nothing more to collapse and go to sleep.

"Den I'll take da top bunk," he said. He put the parcels underneath the bottom bunk and then started to climb to the top. "Expect an eoily wake up tomorra."

"Yes, Jack," she mumbled. She removed her shoes and crawled into the bed. It was lumpy and cold, but if she positioned her body in just the right way, it didn't feel so bad. She batted her eyelashes a few times before closing them fully. In no time, she was asleep.

-------

"What's dis, Cowboy?" the murmuring of boys' voices cut into Brooklyn's dream. "What's she doin here wit us?" It took her a few seconds to realize it wasn't a dream. So she rolled over so she would be facing the boys and gently opened her eyes. She wasn't expecting Boots to be so close, so she startled a bit.

"Boots you scared me!" she said, bringing the cover to wrap up around her upper body. She glanced out the window, the sun was just rising. She supposed one of the boys had woken up, seen her and then woke everyone else up on her behalf. Even newsies should not have been getting up at this hour.

"You scared us, Brooklyn," he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"She's one of us now," Jack said as he swung down from the top bunk. "She'sa runaway. She can't stay in Brooklyn wit Spot coz her folks would look wit him foist. So she's gonna stay wit us fer a bit."

"Dat means she can't be Brooklyn anymores," Racetrack said, lighting a cigar. "Or dose folks a' hois will find hoi real quick." That thought finally came into Brooklyn's head. She'd have to change her name so no one could recognize her. She'd have to come up with a back up story. She had a lot of work to do.

"Dat's right guys, sos we gotta name her," Jack replied.

"Runaway?" suggested Snipeshooter.

"Too obvious," replied Boots.

"Brookie?" Jack suggested. "Dats what Spot calls her."

"And chyou tought 'Runaway' was obvious," Kid Blink added in a sarcastic tone. Brooklyn felt slightly overwhelmed. She didn't know how she was going to cope with having a new name, none-the-less a name picked out for her!

She sat on her bed for a good half an hour, watching names be tossed back and forth. There were a few she liked, but the boys decided against them. Names like Charm, Star, Jade, Noel(because it was Christmas day). But the boys had decided that those names were all "too goily". Once or twice she felt the urge to remind them that she was, in fact, a girl.

"Well whata bout Rookie?" Crutchy piped up. "Since she's new ta all of dis. Not just bein a newsie, but bein doit poor like us too. She's new ta everytin round heres."

"Rookie," Boots said.

"Rookie?" Race echoed, in a slightly disapproving tone.

"Rookie," Jack repeated to himself. "I likes it, whata bout all chyous?" There was a murmur of 'yes's and 'I guess so's, and a smile spread across Jack's face. "Dat was easia den I tought it would be." He then turned to Brooklyn and held out his hand. "Welcome ta Manhattan, Rookie." She smiled and shook his hand.

"Glad to be here, boys," she replied. "Now I need some help to become one of you. Let me change, and then you guys have to help me or I'll stick out like a sore thumb." A few of the boys groaned, but others were willing to help.

Brookl-er- Rookie grabbed the parcels out from under the bed and asked to be pointed to the bathroom. Racetrack showed it to her and she thanked him. She opened the largest parcel to find pants. They were black and made of light material. Attached to them were black suspenders.

She shed her nightgown and slid on the pants. Oh how awkward it felt to have both legs covered. She had worn stockings before, but for them to be loosely covered was just weird. She was going to have some time getting used to them. Before putting on the suspenders, she opened the second largest parcel to find a red long sleeved shirt. She slipped it on and buttoned it up. If the pants felt awkward, this felt really good. The fabric was much lighter and didn't cling to the skin as her dress sleeves did.

She tucked the shirt in and then pulled the suspenders over her shoulders. She then went through one of the smaller parcels. They were a pair of gloves, so she slipped them into her pocket. She then moved to the other small parcel to find tall black socks. She slipped them on and then went to the box which she guessed were the shoes. She opened the box to find black shoes of the cheaper version. She put them on and tied them and then went to put the box away.

She then found in the medium-sized parcel was a black hat and a red scarf, so she placed the hat on her head and draped the scarf around her neck. She figured that was the last of the parcels so she started to collect the paper that they were wrapped in. It was then when she noticed the odd shaped one with a little piece of paper attached to it. She took off the piece of paper and unfolded it to read it.

_Brookie babe-_

_If yous wanna be a part of me newsies, youd beter learn hows ta use this gud. _

_-Spot_

Rookie quickly unwrapped the paper to find a wooden slingshot waiting for her. Around the handle was a little bag. She looked in the bag to find five marbles waiting for her. She smiled, remembering that any Brooklyn newsies she met on the street had a slingshot with them. She slid the slingshot and the marbles into the opposite pocket of the gloves and then finished cleaning up.

When she came back out, the newsies were asleep. Even Jack appeared to be dosing as he leaned against the bed post. While she was walking over to wake him, she began to fiddle with her hair.

Her hair.

Her long honey tresses would have to go. Well, not all of it, but a good bit. It would be too recognizable, as it reached her waist. She would have to ask one of the guys to cut it up to a little lower than her shoulders. She would miss that hair, as she had always been proud of it. Her father had been too, calling her hair the most gorgeous tresses in all of New York, possibly the world.

Wait, what father? She never had a father. Or a mother, or a sister, or Joseph Pulitzer for an uncle. Heck, she wasn't a Pulitzer anymore. She had to erase them from her past. She had to erase _her past completely._ The newsies could know, sure, but no one else. She had to forget about everything else. Maybe not forget, but put them to the recesses of her mind so she couldn't bring it up by accident to the wrong person.

"Cowboy," she said, about to shake his shoulder. But his eyes snapped open before she could and she put it down. He put his hands on her shoulder and pushed her back a little bit to get a better look at her. He spun her around and seemed to be considering everything.

"Everytins so new," he commented. "But we could fix dat real quickly."

"Do you know anything about shooting a slingshot?" she asked him.

"A bit, why do ya ask?"

Rookie took the slingshot out of her pocket. "Spot says that I have to learn how to shoot this and learn to do it well," she explained. "And I'm going to need help."

"I'll help when I can, but uddah den dat chyou'll have ta figua it out by yerself." Jack turned his attention away from Rookie, who was now putting the slingshot back in her pocket.

"Yo fellas!" he exclaimed. A few newsies shot up and looked up to their leader. "How does Rookie heres look?" There were a few bouts of mumbling and moaning before one voice really stuck out.

"Too clean," called out Skittery in an over-zealous moan.

"Dat'll be gone in a day or so," Jack replied.

"Jack," Rookie said. "Do you have a knife of some sort?" The newsie nodded, giving her a questioning expression. She took her hair into one fist at the spot she wanted it cut and the showed it to him. "I want this much cut off. My parents and relatives will recognize me too easily. It has to come off."

"Are ya shoah?" he asked her. She nodded assuredly. "Den we betta do it now befoe yer foist day." Rookie agreed and she sat down on her bed. Jack went downstairs for a moment to get the knife. Her jade green eyes watched as the Newsies fell back asleep. She was old news, they had lost interest once they knew she was staying.

She sat as stiff as a board as Jack began to cut away at her hair. She had shown him where to cut and then turned away, hoping for the best. She winced as he pulled roughly on her scalp so he could get the proper cut. Never had her scalp been treated in such a way, and it was very sensitive. But somehow she managed to grin and bare it, more like grimace and bare it, however.

It was a half an hour before Jack completed his task. "Done," he said in a tired voice. She thanked him and stood up. Locks of her hair lay stranded across the bed. She collected them and put them one lock and tied it with one of her hair. She then put it in under her pillow when Jack had turned away. She had plans for that lock of hair.

She asked for a mirror and was show a very small, cracked one. She could hardly believe the girl that was staring back at her. The only things she recognized about herself were her eyes and her freckles. Everything else looked so difference. She had made a complete --appearance-wise-- transformation from one of the richest girl in New York, to someone her mother wouldn't spare a passing glance at. She looked like a commoner.

_I have never looked more beautiful,_ she thought to herself as she split her hair into parts and braided them. _And I've never felt better._

**Author's Note: I am flying with this fan fiction! I hope that I'm not rushing anything and you guys are enjoying it all. At this rate, chapter seven will be up shortly.**


	7. An Overlooked Complication

-1**Chapter Seven**

Overlooked Complications

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies._

"Oh Rookie," Jack whispered in a sing song voice as he shook the fifteen year-old's shoulder. "Time ta get up." With a groan, jade eyes flickered open and stared into the brown of Cowboy. She shook her head and pulled herself out of bed. She had only gotten a few hours that sleep, and those few hours were not enough. But she got up anyway and was faced with not only Jack, but with an elderly-looking man with a bowler on.

"An' who's dis Cowboy?" he asked, motioning to Rookie. She smiled politely and held out her hand.

"Rookie, sir," she stated as he shook her hand. Before she could continue, Jack interjected.

"She's a friend a Spot Conlon, Kloppman," he said. "She ran away from ha home in Brooklyn, an' she needs ta stay hea foa a bit till tings settle down back dere. But if anybodies askin', her folks died upstate and I'm ha only cousin an' she ain't got no wheres else ta go. Got it?"

"Is that true, young lady?" Kloppman asked her. She nodded in reply, thankful that Jack was helping her cover her tracks. If he could trust this old man with the truth about where she came from, then so could she. Hopefully she could trust him to remember the false story Jack had come up with, just in case the bulls came knocking. The newsies were now paying attention. They had stopped dressing to hear the story Jack was coming up with for her so they could know it too. Rookie made sure to keep her eyes focused on either Kloppman or Jack, both who were fully dressed.

"You shouldn't be hea" Kloppman said. "Maybe we's can find ya a woman's shelta. Chyou don't wanna be livin wit all deese boys do ya?"

"I would rather stay with an old friend than complete strangers, sir," she replied. She put on her best pleading doe eyes. "Please let me stay here. I'll work really hard, Jack has already agreed to show me the ropes."

"Wella coise you can stay," Kloppman replied with a smile and a chuckle. "I was askin if ya really _wanted _ta." Rookie smiled and thanked the old man. He turned to Jack. "You betta take care a ha, ya undastand?" Jack nodded and watched as the old man turned to the rest of the boys. "An' I ain't wantin no funny business from chyou guys." They all nodded and agreed to what Kloppman was saying.

"An' if chyou got any ideas bout funny business," Jack said afterward. "I'll soak ya till ya ain't got no teeth ta tell dose ideas." There was another murmur of acceptance to the terms and Jack seemed satisfied.

"Are ya all ready ta go, Rookie?" he asked her. She nodded. "Good. Go wait downstas an' we'll meet chya dere in a few." Rookie nodded and quickly left the room. She trotted downstairs, Kloppman following behind her.

She took her hair out of the pig tail braids and changed it to one singular braid on the way down. She never wore her hair in braids at home, and she wanted to be completely unrecognizable to her family. "Ya haveta sign in, Rookie," the old man told her. He directed her over to a book and flipped it open. Dust flew out of it, causing both of them to cough. He handed her a fountain pen and she looked at the information she had to fill out.

_Name is Rookie, _she thought to herself as she scribbled down in the books. _Officially I arrived here on the twenty fifth, seeing as it was past midnight when I-_

_It's the twenty fifth?!_ she quickly scribbled in the rest of the information and looked up at Kloppman. "I just realized that today is Christmas day. Merry Christmas, Mr. Kloppman." He smiled at her and returned the favor, looking over the books.

"Do newsies work Christmas day?" she asked him. He nodded, explaining that the newsies worked every day of the year, holiday or no holiday.

"Shoah, business will be slow," he explained. "But dat ain't gonna stop Pulitza an' Hoist from printin' more papes an' makin da newsies woik holidays." Rookie nodded. She couldn't believe her uncle would make the newsies work on Christmas when he himself didn't even work on Christmas! She shook her head to herself and took off her hat, playing with it by tossing it up and down.

Soon the newsies came charging down the stairs, led by Jack. He grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. She was hit by the freezing cold air and remembered the gloves and scarf she had shoved in her pocket earlier that morning. She took her gloves out and slipped them on. She then wrapped her scarf around her neck, the cloth warming her immediately.

"Cozy?" Jack asked sarcastically, causing her to look at the ground. He gave her a gentle shove to let her know that he was just teasing and she smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Jack," she said. "I had almost forgotten until I signed in."

"Merry Christmas," he replied with a smile. "Though as chyou can probably tell, Christmas ain't no holiday we's are used ta celabratin'." She nodded and followed him and the others while they walked down the street. "Chyou betta get used ta not getting fancy presents an' stuff like dat foa no reason. We gotta woik foa what we get, dat's lesson numba one."

"So breakfast is out of the question?" she asked with a humorous, yet weak, smile. Her hand lay on her grumbling stomach.

"Not exactly," Jack replied with a smile. "We have our own ways of getting some breakfast." He motioned to a cart that had trotted down the street. Nuns abound it, they stopped when they saw the newsies. "Come on." The newsies flocked to the cart and the nuns began to hand out bread and cups of coffee.

She walked up nervously, practically glued to Jack's side. He held his hand out and received bread and a cup. She waited patiently, for the boys to get their portions first. She was the one who had large lunch the previous day, who previously had three meals a day, all galiant and rich. They were barely able to scrap together breakfast and supper. She wasn't in dire need of the bread. She was sure they weren't starving, but they were definitely hungrier than her.

"I've never seen you before, child," one of the sisters said to her, bringing her into focus. She smiled and nodded. "What's your story?" Rookie was in trouble, she couldn't lie to a nun!

"I ran away from home, sister," she said truthfully. Hey, just because she had to tell the truth didn't mean she had to tell the whole truth. Though she knew she was just cutting out a part of her story, she adverted her eyes away from the nun in shameful guilt. "I was not happy with my family."

"You have a rough road ahead of you," she said gently, lifting Rookie's head with her index finger. "Your eyes are so pure. Your soul shall be saved." She gave her two pieces of bread and a cup of coffee. Though she drank all of the coffee --no matter how bad it tasted-- she put one piece of bread in her pocket for lunch.

"Thank you, Sister," she said while handing the metal cup back to the nun.

"God bless," the sister said to her, and she traced a crucifix onto her forehead. Rookie nodded and went over to the few newsies that had stayed to wait for her. Racetrack, Boots, Kid Blink, Crutchy and Mush were kind enough to wait with Jack for her. Racetrack had his eyebrows raised skeptically at her.

"An' what was dat?" he asked her. "What'd chyou say ta get anuddah piece a bread?"

"I told her the truth, Race," Rookie replied easily. "Not the whole truth, but enough. She warned me of rough times ahead and gave me two pieces of bread." As she said this, she took a bite out of the bread. Jack shook his head and started to walk away, and they all followed him. "She then said my soul would be saved, and that was all it was."

"Don't be jealous, Race," Boots said jokingly.

"Yeah, don't be jealous coz da nuns likes ha betta," Mush said, putting a hand on Rookie's shoulder. She smiled up at him, he had seemed to immediately take on the role of older brother to her.

"So how has my uncle been treating you guys?" Rookie asked. She hadn't realized that she had made a mistake by doing so. Jack wheeled around, walking backwards. He skillfully avoided objects in the street without even looking behind him.

"What uncle?" he asked casually, glancing to his left and to his right. "Rookie, have cyou been drinkin dis eoily in da mornin? Yer uncle, along with yer muddah, faddah and grandfolks in dat fire." She could have kicked herself when she realized what she had said.

"Sorry, Cowboy," she replied, now playing along. "I had a wonderful dream last night. My family was still alive and my uncle was working here as a newspaper distributor. It all seemed so real, I guess I was hoping it was." Jack nodded, patting her on the shoulder. It was obvious he was concerned about being overheard, as if the walls had ears.

"It's all right, Rook," he said with a smile. "I did dat when I was toiteen yeas old." Rookie threw him a questioning glance, she had mentioned to him at the restaurant that week ago that she was fifteen. But she remained quiet, he seemed to have a trick up his sleeve.

"Younga sells more papes," Crutchy explained.

"Yeah," Kid Blink added. "Not ta mention dat da bulls will be lookin fer a fifteen yea-old." Rookie nodded, now understanding.

"Hea we's are," Jack said, pointing across the town square. He acknowledged a small cul-de-sac of buildings. One of which was Mr. Pulitzer's. And right outside the building's front doors were two police officers.

"Bulls," Rookie whispered harshly to Mush. "Walk in front of me." Quickly Mush stepped in front of her. Short and petite, the tall, muscular newsie covered her easily. Racetrack followed right behind her, Crutchy took her left and Kid Blink her right. Boots and Jack engaged in false conversation. The rest of the newsies that covered Rookie engaged in it also, completely covering her existence.

Quickly they moved across the square, right passed the officers. The men didn't leave their guard, they didn't even bat an eyelash at the newsies. A wave of relief rolled over the fifteen year-old, they had made it passed people who could have ended her charade right there.

The Manhattan newsies were waiting for them, chatting. Most brought the headlines into play. Or at least that was the topic of the conversations Rookie could hear from where she was. She saw David and Les talking to a brunette girl she did not recognize, who looked only a year older. Though she didn't recognize her physical traits, she did remember some tidbits about a girl named Sarah. Well she wasn't just any girl, she was Jack's girl, and David and Les' sister. But she was more famous as Jack Kelly's girl.

As her cover dispersed in front of her, she was noticed by David, Les and Sarah. David looked at her as if she was an old friend that he couldn't remember the name of. Sarah seemed a bit confused, but a small smile played her lips.

"Davey, Les, Sarah," Jack said. He held out an arm, which Sarah settled right into. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before turning to Les, David and Rookie. "Dis is Rookie," he motioned to her. Leaning into Davey he added quietly, "Fomally knowed as Brooklyn. But don't tell nobody." Dave, Les and Sarah nodded. Sarah also held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Rookie," she said. Rookie returned the handshake with a smile.

"And you too, Sarah," she answered. She shifted her weight when she took her hand away. "I know we've just met, but do you have a hair brush you could lend me? I forgot to pack one." Sarah nodded with a warm smile.

"Of course," she replied. "I'll drop it off tomorrow before work." Rookie barely had time to thank her before the brunette continued. "Which is where I should be going now. Bye, guys!" The newsies all chorused a farewell to her. "It was nice meeting you, Rookie. I'll see you at home, Les, Davey. Goodbye, Jack." And with a kiss goodbye from Jack, she left.

"Jack," said Rookie as they waited in line to get their papers. "I don't have any money to get papes."

"Don't worry bout day taday," Jack replied with a wave of his hand. "Ya just obsoivin me taday. No chage. But tomarra, dat's a different story. Yeah, I'm bein serious. Find dat money somehows. Dats how ya gotta live now." Rookie agreed with her lips slightly pursed. Sure, she had never thought that she was going to be handed anything, but she was a bit disappointed about not being helped with her first set.

"Whata headline," Jack said as he got fifty papers from the distributor. Rookie had been talking with Boots and Racetrack, so she didn't get a change to read it. "We'll be sellin good taday boys. Have a look." Jack handed her the paper almost cautiously. Her jade eyes widened as she set them upon a matching pair. Not just matching eyes were staring back at her, it was like she was looking into a black-and-white mirror. Her face was plastered on the front page. The headline was in giant, bold print:

**PULIZTER GIRL MISSING!**

_**Was it an aggravated runaway or a vengeful kidnapping?**_

"Oh no," Rookie mumbled, putting her hand to her head. She began to scan the article, her mouth slowly opening to an 'o' as she read the atrocious piece of journalism.

"Read it out loud," Les begged. She nodded, moving her eyes back to beginning of the article and began to read it off.

"Last night, Brooklyn Pulitzer (niece of Joseph Pulitzer) ran away from her mansion in Brooklyn. She left an aggressive note to her mother, sister and fiancé. It was so aggressive, her mother Mary-Ann told police officers last night, that it couldn't possibly be from Brooklyn's heart or mind. The fifteen year-olds family believes that she was held against her will to write the note and then kidnapped." Rookie took a moment to look at the faces of the newsboys, who were staring at her in a mix of disbelief and anger.

"Fiancé, Calvin Williams believes that he even knows the culprit, or should I say culprits? Calvin suspects that the newsies of Brooklyn and Manhattan have taken her hostage."

"What da hell?" Race exclaimed. "We neva did nuthin! Chyou guys woi da-"

"Shut yer face up, Race," Jack warned. "Keep reading, Rookie." She nodded and went back to the article.

"A reward of ten thousand dollars have been put out for her safe return, and a smaller reward of one thousand dollars for any information that lead to her safe return. But to be sure that she is not currently being held hostage, police officers will be checking every lodging house in New York. If you see them, do not interrupt unless it is a real emergency. A young girl's life and innocence could be at stake."

Rookie almost fainted. She felt dizzy as she clutched the newspaper hard in her fist. She closed her eyes and almost fell over. Mush caught her and steadied her.

"We gotta get ha back ta da lodgin house," he said.

"No chyou idiot!" Racetrack said, hitting Mush on the arm. "We can't bring ha back dere! Dey're gonna be checkin it."

"We have to find her a place where she won't be found," David said quietly. "Somewhere that the bulls won't even think to look." There was a silence among the newsies. But in a matter of moments, a look of realization dawned upon Jack and David's faces.

"Medda," they both said in unison.

"We'll take ha ta Medda," Jack said with a nod. "Right away. She'll let ya stay fer a day a so. Chyou'll haveta loin da ropes anudda time." Rookie was silent, she didn't know what to say. She had heard of the vaudeville star before, but never met her. "Don't sweat nuthin, chyou'll love Medda, she's a real sweethat."

And before she could reply, she was being pulled into a run by David and Jack. They ran her out of the cul-de-sac and down the street. Jack on her right, David on her left, she could not believe her luck. She was so thankful that these boys were willing to help her in such an extreme way. But she laughed to herself when she noted that Jack was hauling his papers right along with him.

When she asked why they were running, Jack replied, "Coz da bulls won't see dat yer a goil dis way." Rookie nodded, not speaking so she could keep her breath and keep running.

She was jerked to the side suddenly by the two boys. They ran into a small space of a building with a door at the end of the small walkway. Quickly checking to see if they had been followed, Jack then opened the door and rushed David and Rookie inside. Right inside there was a staircase. Next to the stairs was a pile of ripped costumes. The rest of the small room was filled with assorted stage props.

"Medda?" Jack called quietly. "Are ya dere?" He trotted up the stairs silently and peeked through the door at the top. He shook his head to himself and walked down the stairs. "We'll just have to wait till she gets back. Make yerselfs comfatable."

Rookie couldn't stand still. She kept walking, pacing back and forth. She was deep in thought, trying to convince herself that there was nothing to be found in the lodging houses. Everything was going to be alright. After all, there was no evidence where she was staying.

There was.

"Jack," she said quickly. "You have to get back to the lodging house, now."

"Why?" he asked.

"My hair," she replied. "My locks of hair that you cut off. They're under my pillow. Don't ask me why I kept them but I did. And my night dress. Jack, it's right under the sheet." Jack stood up from his seat on the stairs. He made a direct move for the door but David stopped him.

"I'll go," he told him. "You have to wait here for Medda." He looked to Rookie. "Which bed is yours and what should I look for?"

"It's the last one in the right corner," she replied. "Bottom bunk. Under my pillow will be a tied lock of my hair. It won't be hard to find. Make sure you get all of it." David nodded. "And then right under my cover is my nightdress. Hide it wherever is necessary."

"And the hair?" he asked, walking towards the door. "What do I do with the hair?"

"Throw it out," she replied shortly. He nodded and then left.

"Thank you," she called after him, getting her words out before the door closed.

"Vhat vas that?" a voice was heard from another room. "Who is there?" Jack grinned toothily.

"It's me, Medda," he replied in a charming tone. "And I've gotta friend here wit me."

In seconds, a vibrant red headed woman in a large pink dress entered the room. A bright smile was plastered on her face as she saw Jack standing before her. She quickly enveloped him in a hug. When she released him, he took her hand and kissed it in a friendly manner.

"Merry Christmas, Medda," he told her.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Jack," she replied. When she took notice of Rookie, she stared for a few moments.

"And who is this?" she asked him, turning him around. Jack smiled and motioned for Rookie to join the two of them.

"Dis is Rookie, Medda," he said. Rookie held out her hand politely. Medda shook it and smiled warmly at her.

"Velcome, Rookie," she said. "And vat can I do for you two?" Jack bit his lip momentarily.

"Well," he replied. "Ya see, Rookie hea ain't really who she seems ta be. She's a runaway, an a good known one fer dat. We, da newsies an me, was wonderin if chyou could take ha in fer today ta tamarra mornin?" Or at least till da bulls back offa bit? As a favor ta ya best guy?"

"It would really mean a lot, Ms. Larkson," Rookie said quietly, looking to Medda. She was very sweet and polite in her tone. She talked to Medda as if she was speaking to her mother, with the most respect she could muster.

Medda smiled and nodded. "Vith a request that sweet, how could I say no? Of course you can stay. But you're going to have to vork and help me as long as you stay."

"I'd be glad to do any chore you ask of me," Rookie replied. "Anything I can do to not go back to my family.

"An' Medda," Jack voiced. "Do ya tink dat chyou could teach ha some newsie stuff fer me, since I can't be hea ta do it meself?"

"Newsie stuff?" Medda questioned. "And chat do you mean by that?"

"Like, um," Jack snapped his fingers, which Rookie noticed he did often when he was thinking. "How we's walk an talk an act an stuff like day." Medda took a small second to think.

"Of course," she replied. Rookie smiled broadly.

"You are one of the most kind women I have ever met, Ms. Larkson," she said. "Thank you so much for helping."

"Anything for Jack Kelly, Rookie," she replied, mirroring the young teenager's smile on her red lips. "And Jack Kelly's friends. But please, call me Medda, darling. 'Ms. Larkson' makes me sound so aged." Jack chuckled and Rookie continued to smile.

"Yes, Medda," she replied.

"Thank you," Medda replied. She turned to Jack. "Now you better get back to your newsies. It vill look very suspicious if Jack Kelly is not there with his newsies." Jack nodded, he walked over to Rookie.

"Be good, Rook," he said. "Medda will take good care a ya." Lowering his tone, he glanced around. He seemed to think that the walls had sprouted ears once more. "Would it be right wit ya if I senta message ta Spot ta let him know yer safe? By now he's seen da headline and he's gotta be havin a fit bout now." Rookie nodded.

"Be careful," she said. "And thank you so much for risking this much for me." Jack nodded and left the theatre. Medda watched him go and then turned to her new guest.

"Now Rookie," she said. "Let's get to vork." Rookie nodded and followed Medda into another room. "Your vork vill not be difficult, not difficult at all. I only said that in front of Jack so he vould not think you vere getting off easy." Rookie smiled and thanked her quietly.

The room they entered was a splendor of color. Bright costumes on racks painted the otherwise white room. There was a large mirror with a bureau in front of it. Make-up and face paint cluttered the top of it,

"Do you want me to clean this room?" Rookie asked in an offering tone. She was so grateful that the vaudeville star was so welcoming into letting her stay, that she was willing to do anything.

"Clean?" Medda sounded surprised that Rookie thought she would as such a thing of her. "Oh no, no! I have employed people for that. You vill help me pick out my costumes for my shows tomorrow." Rookie chuckled.

"I'm sorry I thought such a thing," she said with humor in her tone. "But do you really want me to help you pick out your costumes?"

"Of course," she replied. "I need another voman's opinion."

"Okay, then, show me which costumes you have in mind and I'll give you my honest opinion." Rookie put a hand over her heart as if she was swearing to God.

**Author's Note: Good chapter, bad chapter? Tell me by reviewing. Please?**


	8. Safe

-1**Chapter 8**

Safe

_Disclaimer: I _still_ do not own Newsies._

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"You're positively gorgeous, Medda," Rookie said with an humorous envy in her tone. "Everything you own looks perfect on you." It was true. Every beautiful, flashy costume the star had put on fit her perfectly. If it clashed with her fiery red hair, it matched her sparkling eyes, or vice versa. She couldn't honestly tell Medda which dress she liked the most.

"Vell thank you, Rookie," Medda replied. "But it does not help my decision . Please help me and tell vhich vones you like the best. It vill be a holiday theme, if that makes your decision easier. Or at least give me a good opinion." Rookie nodded, looking at a group of dresses. She counted the first five off and decided she would choose between those.

One was silver with sparkling ruffles. It had a dark grey bodice with a matching bow around the waist. Another was snow white with light blue-tipped ruffles. It had sequenced snowflakes on the bodice. It was a personal favorite of Rookie's, just because it looked winterish. This would definitely be a contender. The third was a bright yellow. Solid yellow. Though Medda made the dress look good, Rookie didn't personally like the color. Another was pink, similar to the one she was presently wearing. The fourth was a pretty lavender color with a royal blue bodice. Instead of ruffles, however, it had feathers. And the fifth was the inverse of the second dress. It was light blue with white-tipped ruffles. The bodice was white, with blue sequenced snowflakes.

Making her decisions in her head, she quickly glanced at Medda. Slowly she pointed to the second dress. And then the fifth. She paused and bit her lip, deciding upon the remaining few. She finally pointed to the first. "Those three are the ones that seem to fit you best," Rookie stated.

"Thank you very much, Rookie," Medda replied. "I vill consider your opinion and hold it high in my thoughts." Rookie nodded, muttering a thank you and a nod.

"But now," Medda continued. "Ve have vork to do. Vork that Jack wants us to do."

"I'm ready for it," Rookie said eagerly. She was similar to a puppy, eager to learn and eager to please. Medda nodded, motioning for Rookie to follow her. She did with the same eagerness that showed in her eyes and tone.

She led her out of the costume room and into the one they had previously been in. She trotted up the stairs easily. _Very easily,_ Rookie thought to herself. _For someone with a four-inch heel on their shoe._ Opening the door and walking through it, they found themselves backstage of a theatre.

"Come this vay," she said, walking out onto center stage. Rookie followed tentatively, gazing out over the audience seats. It wasn't a large theatre, but she had never seen any theatre from the stage.

"A vonderful view, no?" Medda noticed her gaze. Rookie nodded with a small smile. "I thought you vould like it, that is vhy I picked this place to vork." Rookie thanked her.

"There is a lesson in those two vords you just said," Medda stated. "'Thank you' is a phrase that is not heard often out of the newsies' mouth. Do not thank everyone for every little thing. It vill show that you are from a higher class. The bulls vill pick you out very easily."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Rookie asked. "Manners, please and thank yous have been hammered into my head. They are automatic reactions by now."

"Use your body language," Medda replied. "A simple nod, maybe an uttering of the vord 'thanks' could be all you need."

"But how will I know when or when not a proper thank you or body language will suffice?" Rookie asked. Medda chuckled lightly.

"You are lucky I am a performer," she said with a small smile, the remains of her chuckle lingering on her lips. "Ve vill practice situations of the right and vrong vays to say 'thank you' vith each."

"Before we begin," Rookie voiced. "How do you know these terms? How do you know the rights and wrongs of newsie mannerisms. I'm not accusing you of anything, mind you, simply asking as you seem quite knowledgeable."

"I am around these boys often," Medda replied, her eyes twinkling slightly. "I pick them up very easily, and I'm sure you will too. Not to mention I have my own street sense. Now, let's begin our first lesson."

For an hour straight they practiced different situations where Rookie would have to attempt to use the correct form of 'thank you's. And it wasn't exactly pretty. Medda may have been an excellent teacher, but Rookie was far from the perfect student. She would get frustrated easily and then gain a short temper.

"Who knew that two simple silly words could get me so angry," she spat to herself as Medda agreed to taking a break. She wasn't mad at Medda, she was mad at herself. She was mad at her parents for drilling the manners deep into her brain, where they were not likely to leave.

"You're getting better," Medda said with a smile. "And ve vill take a break from that now before you throw yourself off of the stage." Rookie chuckled, though she had been staring at the edge welcomingly. "Ve vill vork on posture and how to 'valk the valk' and 'talk the talk'. Because frankly, you stick out like a sore thumb." Rookie couldn't do anything but smile weakly.

She heard her stomach grumble. _It must be lunchtime,_ she thought to herself. She looked to Medda. "Do you mind if I have a little snack?" The older women shook her head, telling her to go ahead. Rookie debated momentarily what kind of 'thank you' was involved in this situation. "Thanks," she finally said.

She put her hand in her pocket and took out the extra piece of bread. Carefully she tore it in half and stored the other piece her pocket. She then began to eat it delicately. Slowly, was more like it, so she could savor the taste. Medda raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I hope that you plan on changing your eating habits," she said. "Because the Newsies I know do not act like they are having tea and crumpets." Rookie swallowed and pondered a moment.

"I'll remember that, Medda," she said thoughtfully. "But for now I'd very much-er- I'd really like to savor this small meal." Medda nodded and patiently waited the few moments it took for Rookie to finish her bread. She then whisked her to the middle of the stage to practice once more.

"That was much better!" Medda said with a clap of her hands as Rookie got her lesson drilled into her head. After two hours of working very hard, she was nailing every situation almost flawlessly, or with a stutter. But hitting it with a stutter was better than not hitting it at all.

The lessons went on for the rest of the afternoon and into the night. And some how, over the course of the evening, Rookie told the vaudeville star her whole story. Medda swore not to tell a soul, and Rookie knew that she could trust the older woman with her secret.

At the end of the long day, Medda fed Rookie some soup and then had her go off to bed. As Rookie climbed into the cot Medda had set up for her, she thought about Jack and the other Manhattan newsies. She hoped they were all right, as well as the boroughs' newsies.

She found herself thinking about Spot, she hoped he was all right also. She could imagine him getting himself in some deep trouble with the bulls if they tried to search the lodging house in Brooklyn. She silently hoped that he did nothing of the sort, and acted his annoyingly calm yet arrogant self.

She found that she didn't know what the plan was for tomorrow. Was Jack going to pick her up or was she going to stay with Medda for a little while longer? She didn't mind either, she just wanted to know that the young men who were risking a heck of a lot for her to be on the streets were okay. But whenever she saw them again, she would make sure to let them know that she was eternally grateful.

She shrugged her shoulders and then rolled them twice so she found a comfortable position on the cot. She pulled the blanket to her shoulders and batted her eyelashes briefly before allowing herself to slip into a deep sleep.

--

Rookie woke up when sun flooded the room. She squinted into the light the window allowed in and sat up, putting a hand to her chest. It felt a bit tight, almost as if she were wearing a loose-fitting corset. She forced a cough to relieve the pressure and moved a hand from her chest to her throat and massaged it gently.

_I hope I'm not catching a bad cold,_ she thought to herself as she stood up. Another cough forced it's way up her throat and escaped her lips. She swayed slightly, feeling a bit light-headed. But after pacing around the small room a few times, her head cleared. Her chest still felt a little tight, but she wasn't coughing.

She walked down the stairs to the back room where Jack and David had originally brought her into. She sat on a green box labeled "PROPS" in ridged gold letters. When she yawned, the breath came out slightly staggered with a raspy edge. Perhaps she had caught a cold; she decided she would have to get a lot more rest and try to stay out of the colder parts of the day.

She leaned her head back on the wall and closed her eyes, attempting to relax herself. She didn't mean to fall asleep, but before she knew it she was no longer aware of her surroundings.

But she was awakened not long after she drifted off. Someone was shaking her shoulder very gently and saying her name. "Rookie," the familiar voice said. "C'mon, Rookie, it's time ta gettup." She opened her eyes to see that they clashed with brown.

"Hey Mush," she mumbled with a small smile. "How's it rollin'?"

Mush smiled and helped her stand on her feet. "Good, Rookie, thanks," he replied.

"Where's Jack?" she asked quickly, remembering her worry for the leader of the Manhattan Newsies. "Is he all right? What about the other guys? How are they? Did you hear any news from Brooklyn? Did Spot give the bulls a hard time? Did the bulls give Jack a hard time."

"Calm down Rookie," Mush said, putting a gentle hand on her upper arm and rubbing it slightly to calm her down. "Everything is okay. If chyou don't believe me, read dis…" He removed his hand from her arm and grabbed a rolled up newspaper. As soon as he held it out, she snatched it away.

"Where's Medda?" she asked as she unfolded the paper.

"Rehoising for today's shows," Mush replied. "Now read." Rookie dodded and scanned the bolded headline:

**NEW LEAD IN PULITZER GIRL DISSAPEARANCE**

**Just last night, police officers and the waiting Pulitzer family gained news of their missing girl, Brooklyn. Reminding you, Brooklyn is the niece of Joseph Pulitzer who was believed to be kidnapped two nights ago. **

**While police officers all over the boroughs searched lodging houses, hoping to find a clue to where the young girl might be, they never expected to have a map laid out for them. When they were searching the Manhattan newsboy's lodging house, a source (that has asked to stay anonymous) told police and reporters exactly where Brooklyn was headed.**

"**She was a run-away," he explained to one of the World's reporters. "We didn't know she was a Pulitzer girl until we saw the headline this morning. That's when we kicked her out. We didn't want any trouble with the police, no trouble at all. But we did manage to get her to tell us where she was going…" At first the newsboy was hesitant, he wanted to make sure that the police were truly going to bring her back to her family and not to some refuge. But once he was assured, he told the police exactly where she was headed.**

"**She said she was going to hop on a train and go up north to her aunt and uncle's house," he informed. "And then after assimilating in, she hoped to get her aunt and uncle to move out West where she could hide from her family. I don't know what that family of hers did to her, but I'm sure it was not as bad as she exaggerated it to be."**

**Police attention has now been moved off of the newsboys and off of New York City. Now it focuses on all trains heading Upstate and to Sleepy Hollow. Even so, the police can still use your help. If you have any relatives that live or are traveling upstate near the Sleepy Hollow area, please alert them of Brooklyn's possible presence. Give them the portrait that appeared on yesterday's paper. Remind them that if they are to see her, they _must_ alert the police in their area.**

**The World will continue a full watch for Brooklyn Pulitzer and asks it's readers to keep your prayers with her family.**

As Rookie finished reading the article she practically squealed with delight. She was safe. "Oh Mush!" she exclaimed, hugging the older boy in her excitement. "The 'anonymous source' is Jack, isn't it?" she released Mush from her grip, smiling up at him.

"Actually," he said with a slightly bashful smile. "It was me. I went back ta da lodgin' house wit Davy and we was just finishing up gettin rid of yer hair and yerr night dress when da bulls came in ta soich da place. I remember da story Jack told me 'bout yer escape sos dat's what I told da bulls." Rookie let out a squeal and hugged Mush again.

"Thank you so much Mush!" she exclaimed again. "This means so much to me! I'm safe!" She released him again and immediately changed her tone, blushing slightly.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "But you have no idea what this means to me. It means that while all eyes are on the trains and Sleepy Hollow, I'm free to do whatever -well almost whatever- I want for the first time in my life. Oh thank you Mush."

"It's no problem," Mush replied with a smile.

"So am I allowed to get out of here?" she asked hopefully. "Medda's really sweet and everything, but I want to see that everyone is all right with my own eyes." Mush playfully ruffled Rookie's hair.

"Calm down, wouldya?" he asked her in a teasing manner. "If ya really wanna leave, den let's go get Medda an we's can go." Rookie slapped his hand away from her hair and then darted from in front of him and up the stairs to the stage.

"Medda?" she called excitedly. "Medda?" she ran out onto stage where she saw the star rehearsing for her show. Hearing her name being called, Medda looked to Rookie. At first she seemed upset, but seeing the expression on the fifteen year-old's face, her own softened.

"Vhat is it, Rookie?" she asked. "Vhat has gotten you so excited?"

"I can go back to the lodging house, Medda," Rookie replied, a little out of breath. "Look at this article." She quickly shoved the newspaper in Medda's face. The vaudeville star's bright eyes quickly scanned the newspaper, a smile growing on her lips as she did.

"Rookie, this is vonderful!" she stated with an equal excitement. "Though I have to say I vill miss a voman's opinion on my dresses." Rookie chuckled and gave Medda a big hug.

"Putting all that you taught me yesterday aside," she said quietly. "Thank you so much for taking me in and teaching me some of the ropes." Medda hugged her back and nodded.

"It vas no problem," she replied. "Come back anytime that you vish to, you vill alvays be velcome."

"Thanks again, Medda," Rookie said, releasing herself from the tight embrace. "I'll make sure to visit often." With a smile from Medda, she darted back to Mush, who was awaiting her at the top of the stairs.

"C'mon, Mush," she said eagerly, charging down the stairs. "I wanna go thank Cowboy and see how the others are doing." Mush responded with an "I'm coming, I'm coming," and followed her down the stairs at a much slower jog.

They jogged outside and down the long street. "They should be at da distributa's, but we's gonna wait for dem a block down, just in case, ya know?" Rookie nodded and after they jogged through a lot of twists and turns, they slowed to a walk about a block and a half away from the cul-de-sac of buildings that included the distribution booth.

Rookie coughed a few times, causing Mush to ask her if everything was all right. She nodded and explained that she was getting a little cold, and that the frigid air hurt her chest a bit when she ran. So he stood in front of her, blocking the wind. She blushed slightly and mumbled a quiet "thank you".

After a few minutes of standing and light chatter, Jack's voice broke their calm atmosphere. "'ey Mush!" Mush turned around and saw Jack walking towards them. Mush stepped aside to show that Rookie was with him and Jack cracked a smile. Taking in a deep breath of relief for his safety, Rookie could hardly stand still while he approached.

"'ey Rookie," he said with a small smile, extending his hand. "Long time no see, eh?" Rookie smiled and shook his hand as if she was just meeting him. Seeing as he didn't plan to say another word, she took her chance to bombard him with thank-yous and questions.

"Thanks a lot for taking me in and not turning me in when things got a bit rough yesterday," she said a little breathlessly. "How are you? How were the bulls? What about the other guys? Did you see the headline? Jack, I'm safe!"

"If chyou don't quiet dat trap of yers, chyou won't be," Jack scolded lightly, looking around to see if any passerby's had heard her explanation. Rookie looked down bashfully, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Sorry, Jack," she mumbled apologetically. "It's just that-" she coughed - "for the first time in all my life, I'm free. And I'm safe being free. Thank you so much for this opportunity Jack, and thank you for risking so much for me without a second thought."

"It's no problem, Rook," Jack replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Butcha not safe yet. Ya still gotta watch out fer da bulls. Don't make anythin to obvious dat yer not really one of us. Try ta pick up da way we walk and tawk and stuff. Stay by me, Mush, Race or Blink at all times, dere da ones I trust da most. 'Sides, dey got da quickest mouths, sos if chyou getcha self inta trouble, we can getcha outta it."

"Gotcha," Rookie replied. "I'll make sure I'm practically your shadow, Cowboy." She smiled up at him and then remembered Spot.

"Have you gotten any news from Brooklyn?" she asked quickly. "Did Spot give the bulls a hard time? Is he okay? What about the other Brooklyn Newsies? How are they doing?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack replied. "We got woid from dem dis mornin. Spot says dat everytin's okay ova dere, but he can't leave Brooklyn witout lookin funny ta da bulls just yet. He says dat he'll be heah ta make shoah we's treatin chyou all right and ta make shoah yer learnin' da ropes da right way." He rolled his eyes slightly. "Spot, Spot, Spot," he mumbled, shaking his head.

Rookie let out a sigh of relief, now knowing that the newsie who had probably risked the most -besides Jack- was all right. She hoped he visited soon, though, she missed their chats. But she wondered if they would be the same since she became a newsie…and since the kiss.

"Rookie," Jack's voice broke her thoughts. "Are ya ready ta loin da ropes of bein' a newsie?" Rookie nodded eagerly, stepping to his side immediately. Jack chuckled and smiled. "Good. Now let's get goin befoe all da best sellin' spots are taken."

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**Author's Note:**** I'm SO SORRY that this took FOREVER to get out, but I just completely lost my muse for so long. I've got my muse back, so expect a chapter much sooner than three months! Hope you liked the chapter, I know it was short and had a lot of dialogue, but I just had to shove my way through this chapter. **

**Spot will be back soon, don't you worry XD.**

**Please review if you liked this chapter despite the shortness and the dialogue-filled-ness.**

**--Eques**


	9. A Dangerous Balancing Act

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Nine**

'A Dangerous Balancing Act'

_Disclaimer: STILL do NOT own Newsies._

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"New lead in Pulitzer girl search!" Rookie called out into the cold, letting out a strangled cough after she finished her hawk. "Can she be going down south?" She coughed again, covering her mouth with the crook of her elbow. "Or is she still hiding in Sleepy Hollow?" Once again, she let out another cough, causing a woman who passed by gave her a sympathetic look. She only walked a few more steps before turning around and asking for a newspaper.

"Thank you very much, Miss," Rookie said as she accepted the penny from the woman.

"Yes," the woman replied. She lingered a moment, staring at Rookie's face as if she was studying it. "You know you look a lot like this missing Pulitzer girl." Rookie chuckled and nodded her head slightly.

"I get that a lot," she replied, letting out another cough. "But I heard that my late mother had an affair with some richie so for all I know she could be my cousin." The woman mulled over the thought momentarily. While she did, Rookie turned her attention to the corner of the block. Jack was standing there, watching the situation intently. He gave her a do-you-need-help look, but Rookie shook her head, she believed she could get out of this on her own.

"How old are you, young lady?" the woman insisted with a suspicious furrow of her brow.

Without missing a beat, Rookie replied, "Thirteen." Jack had taught her well over the past four days. The two had put together a background story for her, just in case anyone noticed the resemblance she shared with her former self. But he still had to watch her, just incase anyone was a little too insistent on their suspicions of the similarity.

"Hmm," the lady puzzled. "Well that makes you too young."

"Too young?" Rookie asked in fake oblivion, pretending not to know that this woman was trying to pin her as her true self.

"Oh never mind," the woman's tone turned brusque. "Thank you for the paper, good day." Rookie nodded, struggling against her old teachings not to reply with a return "good day". When the woman was about five feet away, she continued hawking out the headlines.

After selling two more papers, Rookie made her way over to Jack. "Chyou all right?" he asked her. Rookie nodded with a proud smile.

"I stuck to the story and it worked," she told him. "And she was still a little suspicious about my age but I told her I was thirteen and she backed off! Jack this is working, this is really working."

Jack smiled like a proud parent momentarily, giving Rookie a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. "Glad ta heah it. Now go sell da rest of yer papes and maybe we can get somethin' good ta eat at Tibby's." Rookie nodded and started back to where she previously was. "Stay on da block," Jack added protectively.

Rookie rolled her eyes, but put her hand up to acknowledge that she heard him. Why would he think she would leave his sight? Did he think she wanted to get caught or get into trouble that he couldn't help her out of?

As she returned to her spot, she began to call out the headlines once more. Out of the thirty newspapers she had started off with this morning, she only had six left. She worked her tail off today, trying to get some extra money for a good dinner at Tibby's. It had been a good four days of hard work and Rookie deserved a bit of good food. She asked Jack and he said yes, but she had to sell all of her papers today.

"Is the Pulitzer girl getting a ride" -she coughed- "down south? Does she have" - she coughed again - "Underground connections?" She coughed again as a young man about Jack's age approached hastily, his eyes on his silver pocket watch.

"One pape, please," he said quickly, without looking at her.

"That'd be a penny, sir," Rookie replied. He looked surprised to hear a female's voice.

"Oh, hello," his tone suddenly changing from rushed to calm and his best attempt at suave.

"Hello," Rookie stated flatly, taking her turn to sound rushed. She held out the paper, trying to take a subtle step away from this customer. "One pape is a penny."

"You know there are other ways of making money than on the streets, sweetheart." He encroached on her slightly. He winked his eye suggestively and flashed her a smile. She took another step back.

"Look, buddy, just take your pape and get out of here," she warned. "I'm not interested." But he still approached her, and she still backed off.

"Are you sure?" he asked her, moving to put a hand on her shoulder.

"She's shoah," tall, muscular Mush came to her rescue. He cut right in between Rookie and the overly-friendly customer. "And if yer shoah dat chyou don't wanna shina, ya betta get outta heah. Now."

"Do you think you're going to give me one?" the customer asked.

"Do ya needa example?" Mush growled. The customer looked to Rookie and Mush stepped in front of her, staring down the other guy. Suddenly the customer drew back his arm and swung for Mush's face. Mush was able to dodge it, but Rookie let out a scared squeal. She begged Mush to back off and walk away, but he didn't.

This time Mush threw the punch and hit the customer in the jaw. The other guy grunted and came right back, punching Mush right in the eye. Rookie squealed again, begging the boys to stop.

Before either of the guys could make another move, Jack was in the middle of the two. He punched the other guy in the gut and yelled at Mush to go. He grabbed Rookie and followed Mush down an alleyway and out onto the next street.

"I don't wanna know," Jack said firmly. "Rookie, get dose last papes sold and den we can grab a bit ta eat." Rookie nodded with a cough and started calling out the headlines as she walked away from the two male newsies.

When they were seated and about to be served at Tibby's, Jack asked Rookie and Mush what had happened to cause that fight with the customer.

"So he comes up to me and tells me that there are other ways of making money than being a newsie," Rookie explained. "So I tell him to back off and that I wasn't interested, but he didn't. He went to put a hand on my harm and then Mush came and told him to back off. The customer got angry and threw a punch but Mush dodged it. Mush punched back, the customer punched back, then you came." She looked from Jack to Mush and back to Jack with a content smile.

Jack seemed to be thinking the whole situation over, his expression blank. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Well whateva," he said. "It's clead up now." Rookie nodded and then looked to Mush again.

Mush was holding -with Rookie's insistence- a few ice cubes up to his blackening eye. The ice was melting in his hand and the cold water was running down his wrist and into his shirt. He did not look like a happy newsie.

"When can I take dis ice offa my eye?" Mush asked impatiently. "Da stuff's freezin'."

"Another two minutes, Mush," Rookie replied. "Using the ice will keep the swelling down, so you won't look so much like a raccoon." Mush sighed and shook his head in a manner much like Jack had done and looked down at the table.

"Here's your dinner," the waiter said as he placed their sandwiches on the table. "Your drinks will be right out." he looked to Mush and then to Rookie. "Would you like some more ice for the lad, Miss?"

"No, thank you though," Rookie replied. The waiter nodded and promptly left the table area. Rookie looked to Mush and smiled, "You can take the ice off now, Mush." A sigh of relief left Mush's mouth as he tossed the ice on the napkin at his place. Rookie smiled at the relief of her friend, letting a cough hide her chuckle.

She took a bite of her sandwich (roast beef and lettuce, yum) and chewed very slowly. The taste was heavenly compared to the meager scraps of whatever she could eat in the past week. Her stomach grumbled, eager to receive the sandwich which Rookie had been taking her sweet time swallowing. When she took a sip of her root beer that had just been placed on the table, she couldn't hid her smile.

"We should try and do this more often," she suggested as she swallowed the soda. Jack raised his eyes skeptically, causing Rookie to immediately add, "When we have some money to, of course." Jack nodded and went back to eating his sandwich at a rather rushed pace. Rookie shrugged to herself and took a second bite, keeping her slow pace.

"I tought we's was neva gonna get outta dere," Jack commented as they left Tibby's. "Why was ya eatin so slow? Were ya expectin' da sandwich ta object?" Rookie smiled and shook her head.

"I was savoring the taste," she replied with a wave of her hand. "I don't think I've ever had a better sandwich than that before."

"Yeah," Mush nodded. "Old man Tibs makes his food real good. Have ta be da best stuff dat's cheap." Rookie didn't object, she had really enjoyed the sandwich and the root beer soda pop was excellent. But she would never let the guys know that it had been her first soda, her mother had never allowed Antoinette or Brooklyn to drink soda.

_Take that, mother,_ Rookie though to herself, remembering the feeling of the bubbling drink as it rolled down her throat.

As they walked, they chatted lightly. "Are chyou okay, Rook?" Jack asked as she coughed into her fist. She nodded as she coughed, but Jack didn't seem convinced. Jack seem convinced. Mush patted her gently on the back until she stopped and caught her breath.

"Are ya shoah?" Mush persisted. "Ya don't sound dat good."

"I'm fine," Rookie insisted, coughing one again. "I've just got a bit of" -she coughed- "bit of a cough. It's nothing more than that I'm feeling a bit" -she coughed again- "under the weather. It just gets worse at night." She coughed again. "Don't worry about me." Jack shook his head, but Mush looked like he was using all his might not to say something. Rookie couldn't look at the concerned expression on his face, it reminded her of how her father had looked when he was worried about her or she had gotten scolded by her mother. After only three or four seconds, she had to look at her feet.

They continued walking in silence, save for Rookie's occasional and brief coughing fits. It was in this awkward silence that they walked all the way back to the lodging house. It was in front of the house that a familiar voice cut their silence.

"'ey Mush!" It was Racetrack, coming back from a long day at the horse races. "Do my eyes see a shina?" The threesome stopped and looked over, waiting for the Italian newsboy to reach them. As they stepped into the candlelit lodging house, Race smirked and chuckled.

"Dat is a shina!" he exclaimed. The four waved to Kloppman as they passed the friendly keeper at his desk. Race turned his attention back to Mush. "Sos, what happened ta you, big guy? Da Delancy's ain't back, are dey?"

"Dis guy wouldn't leave Rookie alone," Mush explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Didya soak him outta his head?" Race asked excitedly. "Didya make shoah he knew dat no one messes wit our goil?" He put a hand on Rookie's shoulder in a playful manner.

"Yeah, yeah I showed da looza," Mush replied, glancing at Jack. "One hard punch ta da jaw and-"

"And den I had ta get in dere ta break it up," Jack filled in. Racetrack removed his hand from Rookie's shoulder and laughed.

"Good job, Mush," he said with a laughing smirk. "Protectin' our goil from da likes of street scum and whateva else lives heah in New York." Mush smiled proudly and ruffled Rookie's hair. She noticed he had taken to doing that whenever she was involved in something. She put her hands up and batted his hands away, laughing. Her laugh turned into a cough and she was soon coughing into her sleeve.

"What do we's got heah?" Racetrack asked, patting her on the back with a bit of force. "Chyou all right dere, Rookie?" Rookie rolled her eyes and nodded while she stopped coughing.

"Yes Race, I'm fine," she replied. "I've just got a bit of a cough that just gets worse at night." She coughed again and shook her head slightly. "But thanks for asking."

"Whateva chyou say, toots," Race replied with a shake of his head. Under his breath he mumbled, "Women," which caused Rookie to smile and chuckle.

"All I need is a good night's sleep," she said as they walked into the bunkroom. "G'night boys."

"G'night, Rookie," the three boys chorused behind her. She smiled and walked over to her bunk, slipping under the covers. She the sheets up to her neck, though they didn't provide much warmth against the bitter December air.

_It won't be December for much longer,_ Rookie mused to herself as she batted her eyelashes closed. _Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. _

She could hear the boys talking in the background. Mush was telling the story of how he had saved her from the creep of a customer. Except in his version the customer was at least four inches taller than the tallest Manhattan newsie. She chuckled to herself and rolled over so her back was to them. In no time she had fallen fast asleep.

Something told Rookie not to roll over and open her eyes the next morning. She heard Jack's voice first, it was raised and edged. Absolutely no one else was talking besides him, it was absolutely silent.

"I toldja Spot," Jack said tersely. _Spot_, Rookie thought, smiling. _But why is Jack speaking to him so harshly?_ She decided that she would sit and wait it out before jumping in and interfering. So instead she stayed still and listened.

"Brooklyn ain't heah no more," Jack continued. _What?!_ Rookie thought.

"What da hell _Sullivan_?" Spot growled threateningly, using Jack's real last name. "I trust chyou guys and den chyou let her leave? Are chyou freakin outta yer mind? Where did she go? When did she go. I swea ta God I'm gonna kill chyou, ya bastard. I trusted chyou!"

"She left right 'bout when Rookie ova dere got heah," Jack replied, his voice suddenly calmer and nonchalant. Rookie smiled to herself, thinking that she had an inkling of what Jack was trying to do. She didn't know why, but she was sure he had a good reason. And if he didn't, then it was a pretty funny prank none-the-less. She pulled the sheets up over half of her head, so only from her nose up was showing.

"What did he do ta her?" she heard spot growl.

"She," Jack corrected, sounding as nonchalant as a man could be.

"What?"

"She," Jack repeated. "Rook's a goil."

Rookie heard someone walk towards her bunk. By the hard, quick demeanor of the steps, she could only guess that it was Spot. Suddenly she felt a slight blow to her upper arm; Spot had backhanded her!

"'ey Rookie," she heard his voice hiss. "What'd ya do ta Brooklyn? Doya tink dat just coz yer a goil I'll be nice ta ya's? Doya tink just coz I can't soak ya dat I won't give ya hell?" Rookie struggled hard to control her laughter, but remained quiet. "'ey! I'm talking ta chyou!" Rookie smirked under the sheet.

"Oh Spot," she said, bringing her voice down a few notes to keep him from figuring out that she was really Brooklyn. "Chyou wouldn't dream of givin' me hell." She also gave herself a fake street accent to hide her tutored speech/.

"Oh yeah?" he said nastily. "Ya think so?"

"I know so," she rolled over and faced him, only letting her jade eyes show to look at him. He seemed taken aback, and took a step back from her. His eyes had gone wide and he took off his hat as he would if she were still Brooklyn and not Rookie. She pulled the sheet off of her and sat up in her bed, letting her legs hang over the side.

"Didja miss me, Spot?" she asked him, cocking her head spryly with a playful smile. She ran her fingers through her hair which had come loose from their braids during the night. He still looked as shocked as anything, but his stormy blue eyes searched her face, making sure that this really was the little rich girl he had brought here in the middle of the night only six days ago.

He approached her with purpose and stood in front of her, forcing her to look up at him just by standing there. How could she not? She hadn't seen him in six days, and the night he had brought her to Manhattan they had kissed. There seemed to be a pull of attraction that just made her look up to him, to watch his every move.

"Brooklyn?" he said quietly. She stared blankly up at him and shook her head, muttering "No". She couldn't help glancing back at the rest of the guys. They were all staring, Jack had a smirk of what seemed to be victory twisting his lips. Racetrack seemed to share the same smirk, but the rest looked apprehensive about what the King of Brooklyn would do about their trick. Mush was standing next his bedpost, and he gripped it so tight his knuckles turned white. Rookie didn't understand why he was so anxious, but whatever the reason, he was terrible at hiding it.

Rookie looked back at Spot, who was now examining her closely. "Rookie?" he asked quietly. Her eyes lit up and she smiled, nodding.

"Nice to meet you, Spot," she replied in a quiet, respectful tone as she held out her hand. She was a newsie now, she had to respect the most feared Newsie in New York, even if they had shared a kiss. That was one of the hardest lessons that she was learning while becoming a newsie. She had to learn that she was no longer above the newsies and had to respect their ways and follow their rules. She wasn't used to having a leader like Jack or Spot, just mother and Cal, and she was able to rebel against them. But rebelling against a newsie leader was a completely different story.

Spot shook her hand briefly, but didn't let go. Instead, he pulled her to her feet and further examined her by removing his hand from hers and putting it on her shoulder. He spun her around, as if to check every feature was the same as it was before.

"Come with me," he instructed her, turning and walking towards the door. "'Scuse us, boys," he addressed the newsies. Rookie followed him, glancing quickly to Mush, Racetrack and Jack. Jack looked a bit tense, but Racetrack winked at her, making her smile. Mush clutched the post tighter than ever, watching her closely. His eyes begged her not to go with Spot, but she just flashed him a reassuring smile.

When they were in the small hallway, Spot silently led her to the window. He opened it and stepped out onto the fire escape. She coughed a few times, causing him to look back at her, which he hadn't done the whole way out of the bunkroom. She smiled and followed him out onto the fire escape and into the frigid air. It was then that she noticed that he was wearing the fleece she had bought him when she was Brooklyn.

He said nothing, and turned his back to her, beginning to climb up the fire escape. Rookie followed him all the way to the roof, coughing only twice on the way up. Each time she did, he would turn his head slightly, checking that she was all right.

He led her to the middle of the roof and looked around, anywhere but her. "You're not going to throw me off the roof, are you?" she asked, forcing a frightened tone. The tone did the trick, he looked over to her, his eyes flashing with quick anger. But when he saw her smiling at him, his eyes softened and he released his cane from his clutches.

"What'd dey do ta ya?" he asked, looking her over. "Ya look like a guy."

"I look like a newsie, Spot," Rookie replied. "Please don't tell me that the King of Brooklyn, the slickest newsie in New York didn't think I was going to be able to keep my Brooklyn looks."

"Brooklyn," he said, taking a step towards her.

"Rookie," she corrected with a shake of her head. "I'm not Brooklyn anymore Spot, I can't be Brooklyn anymore. It's Rookie now." She paused to cough into her fist. "And this-" she spun around once "-is Rookie. I had to get rid of my hair, my relatives would pick me out of the crowd in minutes. And these clothes, well you knew about the clothes since I had you buy them for me." He just stared at her for a moment before turning around and walking to the edge of the building, staring over the city and towards the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Dey treatin' ya good?" he asked her, not looking at her. She walked up next to him and nodded.

"Everyone has been great," she replied with a smile. "Jack and Racetrack and Mush have been great to me, they treat me like their younger sister. And all the other guys have been really helpful too; they're teaching me the tricks of the trade. Of course I'm no where decent yet, but I figure I'm okay for a beginner. I've still got a lot to learn."

Spot nodded, still not saying a word. Rookie had never seen him this quiet in her short time of knowing him. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, his eyes had glassed over slightly and his hand rested around his cane.

"What else?" he asked finally, still not looking at her. She wondered if she really looked that hideous that he simply could not stand to look at her. She wondered if he regretted what he had done, and wished that he hadn't taken her away. He would still have his little rich girl with gorgeous gowns and face paint and her figure clearly shown. The thought alone make her choke slightly, but she covered it up with a cough.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, clearing her throat. "Mush saved me from a scum of a customer yesterday. Got him right in the jaw, the loser."

"What did da bastard do ta ya?" his voice gaining a fierce edge. She had gained his attention now.

"He wouldn't leave me alone," Brooklyn replied. "He told me that there was other ways of making money besides being a newsie and then he wouldn't back off. Mush came in and soaked him." Spot nodded curtly, and Rookie wondered what was going through his mind. "Mush has been really great. In fact, he took me to the bridge the day before yesterday, right at sunset. It was really beautiful, Spot, just like when you showed me, except the sun made the water glisten in this special way and the sky was pink and I wasn't afraid of getting caught. Mush has really taken over the roll as my big brother."

"Yeah?" Spot snapped, his eyes sharpening to a glare as he focused them on the bridge. Obviously what she was telling him wasn't what Spot had wanted to hear. Rookie guessed that he had hoped she would tell him that she hated it in Manhattan and wanted to rush back to Brooklyn with him. But the truth was that she liked it in Manhattan.

But now the two that had once been open and easy with each other stood in a painful silence. Rookie coughed harshly, but he didn't do what Mush and Racetrack had. He simply stared out, not lending a hand to pat her back. She forced the rest of her coughs out before taking a few steps backwards and turning around. There seemed to be nothing left to say.

"Are you staying for New Year's?" she asked him as she reached the fire escape. "Kloppman's letting us have a bit of a party." He shrugged his shoulders, not even looking back at her. He kept his focus on the bridge and only the bridge.

"Okay then," she said. "I hope to see you later, Spot." And with that, she climbed down the fire escape.

She did her best to hide the little hurt she felt when she climbed back in the window. She had hoped that Spot would be proud that she was fitting in so nicely, and the progress she had made in such a short amount of time. She kept her facial expression blank as she walked back into the room. The guys were changing, and most of them were shirtless, but she was getting used to this sight in the morning.

Rookie walked over to her bunk and slipped on her shoes and combed her hair with the comb Sarah had given her. She pulled it into a low pony tail, slipping her hat over her head. She coughed again, causing a few of the guys to look over. Mush, only clad in his pants at this hour of the morning, walked over.

"What's da matta?" he asked her as he pulled on his shirt.

"It's nothing, Mush," Rookie said with a false smile. "Really." Mush only had to stare at her for a few moments until she was forced to fess up.

"Okay, but please don't tell the other guys," she said, pulling her socks up a little. Mush nodded, agreeing to the terms. "It's just that I had hoped that Spot would be proud of me. I mean you guys have accepted me as" -she coughed- "your little sister and Jack says I'm not to shabby for a beginner newsie. But he seems upset, you know? I think he was hoping that I would rush back to Brooklyn with him. But I don't think I can yet, I don't think I'm ready" -she coughed again- "to go back yet." Mush nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but he was called away by Skittery.

Rookie sighed and slumped down on her bed. She picked up the pillow and pulled from beneath it the slingshot and the bag of marbles. She shoved them in her pocket and then left the room, tossing over her shoulder to Jack that she'd be waiting downstairs.

"Hey Kloppman?" Rookie asked as she walked over to his desk. "You wouldn't happen to have an old beer bottle or soda bottle lying around, would you?" The old man mumbled something Rookie couldn't hear before turning around and looking about. A small smile appeared on his face as he bent down.

"Here ya go, Rookie," he said as he stood up. In his hand was a glass bottle. "What doya need it for?" Rookie took the slingshot out of her pocket.

"Target practice," she explained. Kloppman smiled and held the bottle out to her.

"The boys should be down soon, be ready ta go," he reminded. "Jack doesn't like ta be late ta da distributor. 'Specially coz I'm letting have their party tonight." Rookie nodded in compliance and smiled, taking the bottle and leaving the lodging house.

She walked over to a stack if abandoned crates that were left in the alley by vendors and store owners that had no use for them. She moved them around quickly so she had a stack that reached her chest in height. She then placed the bottle in the center and counted ten steps away from it. It wasn't a far distance, but she wanted to work on shooting the marbles in a general direction. She didn't have to hit the target.

She coughed as she removed a marble from her pocket and strung it to the slingshot. Pulling it back, she aimed the slingshot in the direction of the bottle and fired the marble at it.

It missed.

No big surprise, but Rookie had a bit of false hope that she could have fired it in the general direction. But no, it had shot below the bottle and hit the box with a loud _**clunk**__. _She walked over to the boxes and picked up her marble. She walked back to her spot and strung the slingshot again. She tried her hardest to aim, but the marble missed it's target and sailed right into the brick wall behind it.

Rookie strung another marble, figuring that she would get the other one when she went to get this one. She aimed and fired, but it missed hopelessly. She grumbled and started towards the boxes to retrieve her marbles.

_**Crash!**_

In an instant, right before her eyes, the bottle exploded. The glass fell to the side and slid off the box. Rookie's eyes searched all around her, looking for the culprit who broke her practicing bottle. After looking in almost every direction, she looked in the only one she hadn't, up. There was no one there, but she figured she knew who the perpetrator of the breaking her bottle was. Coughing as she went, she searched around the boxes. She found her two marbles, but not a third one that would have been used to destroy the bottle.

"Curious," she mumbled to herself, pocketing her marbles and slingshot. She coughed twice as she stood up, rubbing her arms in a quick, rough motion. It was a particularly cold day, and the gray clouds threatened snow. But she had to admit, the good night's sleep she had gotten that night had definitely made her feel better, relieving some of the pressure in her chest and head.

Rookie didn't have any time to continue her search for the missing marble, as Jack led the newsies out of the lodging house. At his side was Spot, but his expression was like stone; it was completely unreadable. Quickly she walked over to the boys, sidling up to Racetrack.

"What were ya doin' by da crates?" he asked her as they walked.

"I was practicing with my slingshot," Rookie replied. "And I was looking for the marbles I had used."

"Dere was broken glass ova dere, didja hit yer target?"

"No, I wish I had though," Rookie replied with a shake of her head and a cough. "It just kind of exploded." Racetrack raised an eyebrow.

"It _exploded_?" he asked, looking around to make sure that none of the other guys had heard her explanation for the broken bottle. "Are chyou feelin' okay toots?" Rookie noticed out of the corner of her eye that Spot had heard him call her 'toots' and had turned his head to watch them with one wary eye. But she ignored him, playing his game. Racetrack's voice brought her back to their conversation.

"Chyou seem ta be a bit noivey. Are ya seein things or sumethin?"

"I feel fine Race, really," Rookie replied with a smile. "I think that the wind blew a rock or something off the building and hit the bottle. What are the odds, huh?" She didn't feel like announcing her suspicions of Spot on the roof, especially with the King of Brooklyn paying attention to their conversation.

"Whateva chyou say, Rook," Racetrack replied. "S'long as chyou say dat yer feelin good." Rookie smiled and thanked him quietly for backing off. So she was going against what Medda had told her, she did it quietly enough so that the others didn't hear.

After they had gotten their bread and coffee from the nuns on the wagon, they headed over to the distribution center. Instinctively, Mush, Racetrack, Kid Blink and Skittery grouped around her as inconspicuously as possible. It was a normal routine to blend Rookie in, just in case one of the bulls saw a resemblance to the portrait in the newspapers.

Thankfully though, the main article in the newspaper was not focused on the latest rumor Jack had spread around to keep the bulls off of Rookie's appearance. The headline and lesser articles were all related to the new millennium that they were to enter at twelve o' clock midnight that evening.

_Year nineteen-hundred,_ Rookie thought as she waited on line to get her newspapers.

"Don't get no more den twenty," Jack told her quickly. "Ten or fifteen'll be good. Enough ta get chyou some good money, but not a lot sos we can get some drinks and stuff and den get back ta da lodgin house. Rookie nodded and passed the message on down the line. When she got to the window, she bought only fifteen papers. It took her a whole day to sell thirty, so hopefully fifteen papers would only take her half a day, depending on the amount of people out today.

"Jack, can I ask a favor of you?" Rookie asked as she came off the line with her newspapers.

"Depends on da toims," Jack replied. "Come ova heah." He led her over to the side of the cul-de-sac where they weren't likely to be overheard by the others.

"Can you talk to Spot for me?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows and Rookie knew she had to be quick to continue and explain. Stifling a cough, she did just that. "I know he expects me to go back to Brooklyn with him and I don't think I can"- she coughed -"not just yet. But things got a little tense between us this morning on the roof, and I don't think he'll be rational and listen to me and be able to understand my"-she coughed again-"view." Jack stared at her momentarily.

"Sos yer tellin me dat chyou want me to talk to Spot an' tell him dat I tink dat chyou shouldn't go back ta Brooklyn?" he asked. Rookie shrugged and nodded, Jack had basically hit the nail on the head with his question. But to her surprise, Jack shook his head. "No, I won't. He won't cah what da hell I tink and chyou got ta loin how ta stand on yer own feet." Rookie bit her lip and thought a moment.

"Then can you suggest it to him," she offered. "Mention how I still have a lot to learn or how I can hardly shoot my slingshot. Or maybe even mention that I was talking to you about how I really needed to talk to him or something?" She paused and batted her eyelashes twice, softening her eyes to resemble those of a sweet doe. "Please?"

Jack chuckled, shaking his head again and looking to the ground. "Chyou really know how ta sell it, don'tchyou? What a puss chyou've got dere. Yer gonna be one good newsie wit enough trainin'. I'll mention sumethin ta Spot fer ya." Rookie smiled and thanked him verbally and with an accompanying nod.

"Yer welcome," Jack replied. "And chyou owe me." Rookie nodded. "Now leave us go sell some papes." Rookie kept her smiled and followed Jack out. Spot was at Jack's other side in seconds, he still wasn't looking at her. Sighing, she looked to Jack with a bit of pleading in her eyes. He nodded, and she felt herself let out a shaky sigh of relief.

This morning had come as quite the shocker to Rookie, whom Spot had never coldly ignored. She realized that dealing with Spot in relation to the Manhattan was one dangerous balancing act, and she was quickly falling off center.

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**Author's Note:**** Dun dun duhhh. What will happen? Do you know? Do I know? Who really knows anything?**

**Just kidding. Don't worry, things for Rookie and Spot will ease over in the next chapter.**

**Or will they?**

**Am I being serious? Who knows?**

**I love all my faithful reviewers, so please review some more if you liked this chapter, or even if you didn't! I love reading reviews!**

**xEques**

**P.S. Thanks to dance4him and Seren McGowen for their awesome reviews to Chapter Seven!**


	10. Hanging by a Moment

Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Ten;; Hanging by a Moment**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I do own Brooklyn/Rookie, I created her and she's ALIVE!! BWHAHAHA!_

_Ehem…sorry about that. Yeah, anyway, Disney owns Newsies._

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By four o'clock that afternoon, the newsie were heading back to the lodging house; most had arms full of beer bottles. All but one. Rookie only held four soda bottles, she didn't care for beer. In her opinion, it was as bad as rum. When abused, it turned even the most respectable, high-classed men into complete dogs, and she wanted no part of it.

Of course all of the guys had given her neck about it, but she had flat out refused their offers. "Bad tasting, cheap liquor does not tempt my taste," she had replied when Racetrack had waved a bottle under her nose, trying to coax her into buying one.

"Den what does tempt yer taste?" Skittery had asked in mock-flirtation, sidling up to her and slipping an arm around her waist. Spot had turned his head at this, and out of the corner of her eye, Rookie saw his eyes flash. But since he had been ignoring her, she decided to play around with Skittery.

"I don't know, Skitts," she had said, batting her eyelashes over-zealously to let the guys know she was just joking around. "Someone tall, dark, and handsome." She had run her hand over his curly, light brown hair and grinned. Spot had slowed down so he walked about five feet from Skittery's side. Rookie was almost positive that he was trying to catch her eyes. "But I guess two out of three isn't bad." And with that, she had slipped out of his grip, leaving him with his mouth open.

"Which two?" he had asked quickly, while the guys laughed at the confused Skittery. Just to annoy him even more, she shrugged innocently and walked over to Racetrack, changing the subject of conversation. Racetrack couldn't stop laughing for at least a minute, which kind of ruined the "air of mystery" that she had been going for.

When they reached the Lodging House, a few of the guys were still giving Skittery a hard time about what Rookie had said to him. She just smiled triumphantly at him when he play-punched her in the arm as "payback".

As soon as they got into the bunk room, everyone went to their bunks to stow their beer where they could watch it. Around the lodging house, no one trusted anyone with their own beer. Rookie put her soda on her bunk under each corner of the mattress. She memorized how she had placed them, just in case one of the guys decided to try and switch her soda to beer to get her drunk.

The scraping of wood-on-wood caught Rookie's attention and she turned around to see the guys moving all their bunks out of the way. She guessed that it was so they had more room to move around and less of a chance to run into hard inanimate objects when their veins were filled with alcohol.

Rookie immediately jumped into help, walking over to help Swifty, Boots and Snipeshooter move a bunk. They gave her a "what-the-heck-do-you-think-you're-doing" look, and she simply responded with "I'm helping, deal with it." They seemed satisfied with that answer and seemed to enjoy the help also. It was one of the hardest things that Rookie had ever done, even with help, but she felt very proud of herself when the bunk hit the wall.

She moved on to help Jack, Racetrack and Spot move one. "What do chyou tink yer doin', Rook?" Racetrack asked as she sidled up to him. "Dis ain't goils' woik." Figuring that she would be asked this with everyone she tried to help, she replied with the same answer.

"I'm helping you guys out," she said, giving a cough as they pushed the bunk across the room to the wall. "Deal with it." Racetrack mumbled something that she couldn't hear, but Jack patted her on the back.

"Loinin' ta stand on yer own feet," he said as they reached the wall. "I'm prouda ya, Rookie." Rookie beamed a grin and then went to go help elsewhere.

David and Sarah arrived around five o'clock, when all of the beds were moved back. "Just like ya ta come when all of da woik is done," Crutchy commented with a smile as he hobbled passed. Even he had done his part, pushing against the bedposts as hard as he could despite his bum leg and crutch. David gave a short laugh and went up to Jack to talk about something or other.

Sarah was holding a crate of something, but she looked to be struggling with it slightly. Rookie went over and helped her haul it to an empty bed. Uncovering it, she found it to be three loaves of bread, a large pot of soup and about apples. "Where'd you get all of this?" Rookie asked as they moved a small table over to the bed and began to put the food on it.

"My mother and I baked the bread and made the soup," Sarah explained as they carefully placed the soup on the rickety table. "And then David bought the apples. I think they're kind of unnecessary, though. I mean, how are all of you guys going to split those between you? But David said he wanted to help out, so I didn't protest."

"Thank you, and thank your mother for us newsies," Rookie said with a smile that Sarah returned. "It was really great that you guys made this for us."

"It was no problem, Rookie," Sarah replied. "We had _a lot_ of extras left over from the meal Mother and Father are going to have with Les. Not to mention I wanted to help you guys out too."

"Oh stop lying," Rookie said jokingly. "Everyone knows that you just wanted to make your Jacky-boy happy." Sarah laughed and nodded, not denying a word of it.

Rookie marveled at how she and Sarah got along so well. They hardly saw each other over the small time span that Rookie had joined the Manhattan Newsies, and yet they acted as if they were old friends that had grown up together.

_I guess it's just a girl thing,_ she thought to herself as she and Sarah discussed this and that while the boys made more changes to the room, like hauling up another small table and chairs from downstairs so that they could play cards. She could never imagine any of the guys talking to any other guy like she was with Sarah after knowing them for only a short amount of time.

"Sos, when does da party start?" Snipeshooter asked impatiently. His question triggered the other guys to direct similar questions towards Jack and Spot.

"Relax, boys," Jack said. "We's just waitin' for a couple o' Spot's newsies ta come down. Dey should be heah soon, yeah Spot?" Spot nodded and walked over to one of the windows, twirling his cane.

"Dey're at da door now," he stated. "Dey'll be up in a minute or so." The room went quiet for a few minutes until the sound of several pairs of footsteps filled the room as they trumped up the stairs.

The door flew open and five newsies walked in. Three of them were boys and the two others were girls. Rookie took particular notice of these girls, as she hardly ever saw girl newsies and had never talked to one before. One was her height and had light auburn hair with dark red streaks highlighting the locks. Her light blue eyes were soft, yet Rookie could tell they were guarded. She was very pretty despite her roughed, wrinkled clothing, slightly messy hair and faint dirtiness to her. She must have been working hard that day.

The other was much taller, at least five-feet seven inches tall. She had black curly hair and steel-gray eyes. Her face held no expression, no emotion. She just looked around the room, examining everything and everyone. When her eyes fell upon Rookie, she raised her eyebrows. Rookie stared back, not knowing if she was to stand down and back off or not.

The girl cracked a smirk and walked up to Rookie. She walked in a circle around her, and Rookie stiffened slightly, just in case she had to be on her guard.

"Is dis da goil ya told us about, Spot?" she asked her leader as if Rookie wasn't standing right in front of her.

"Yeah," Spot replied, his tone nonchalant. "Yeah, dat's Rookie."

"I thought chyou said dat her name was Brooklyn," the she-newsie replied with a skeptical raise of her eyebrows.

"It was," he replied. "Befoe dees Manhattaners made her inta a newise."

"_She's_ supposedta be a newsie?" the shorter one asked incredulously. "She's supposedta be a _Brooklynite_?" Rookie bit back her lip, not knowing what to say, or if she should even speak.

"C'mon Jack," the taller one said, looking to the Manhattan leader. "Chyou signed up ta help some richie?" Jack put his hands up defensively.

"Dazzle, leave me outta dis," he said. His tone was edged, and turned sharp as he broke into his next sentence. "Are chyou doubtin' me? Do ya tink I would even consida Rookie if I didn't tink dat she would make a good newsie? What about Spot? Are chyou doubtin' him too?" His tone challenged her talk back, to challenge his superior judgment.

"Seems real quiet," the shorter one said. "Is she a mute or sumethin?"

"What would you like me to say?" Rookie snapped, her tolerance for the verbal abuse finally breaking. "How did _you_ gain any right to judge me? Why should I reply to verbal attacks? Does it make you feel good about yourself to rant on someone that has only been a newsie for _five days_?" She coughed. "And I thought that the Brooklynites were supposed to be the toughest in all of New York." She narrowed her eyes at the girl in front of her, her own jade eyes flashing.

"Are you callin' us weak?" the girl asked vehemently, approaching Rookie threateningly. Rookie pretended to be shocked.

"Wow, you've got yourself a brain up there too!" she said in faux-amazement. "You sure could have fooled me." The girl clenched her fists and Rookie could see Dazzle out of the corner of her eye, bristling at the comment. The guys -Manhattan and Brooklyn- stood still, watching the scene unfold on edge.

"Why you little," the Brooklynite took two fast steps towards Rookie, winding up her fist. Rookie went ridged, readying herself to dodge.

"Echo." Before the other girl could reach Rookie, Spot's voice stopped her in her tracks. His voice was quiet, but so commanding that it was like a collar that pulled Echo back to where she had first stood. The tone of his voice had been so cold, it sent shivers up Rookie's spine. She coughed quickly, but kept her eyes locked with Echo's.

"Rookie," it was Jack's voice this time. It was more terse than cold, and it didn't send shivers up her spine like Spot's command to Echo had. Rookie took a step back, but didn't take her eyes of the other girl.

Echo took a step towards her, and Rookie didn't move. She returned the step after she saw Echo's fists relax at her side. She ignored Jack's don't-you-dare-make-another-move "clearing of his throat". Echo spit on her hand and held it out towards Rookie. Rookie hesitated before copying the motion and shaking Echo's hand firmly.

_This is disgusting,_ she thought to herself. But she kept her face straight, not letting her true emotions seep through. She cracked a smirk and Echo followed her example.

"Nice ta meetcha, Rookie," Echo said as they withdrew their hands. "Good ta know dat chyou ain't no stuck-up, no-nothin, soft-type richie."

"Same to you, Echo," Rookie replied. The whole room seemed to take a breath as the two smiled at each other, but then eyes turned to Dazzle.

"Ya ain't so bad, kid," Dazzle said, approaching Rookie. She held out her hand and the two spit-shook and the mood in the room became light again. When no one was looking though, Rookie wiped her hand on her pants and shuddered with a cough.

Rookie was introduced to the three Brooklyn guy newsies that had come. There was Axel, Falcon and Viper. Axel wasn't that tall, but he was muscled and broad. He had dark brown hair that was cut very short, hidden by his hat when it was placed on his head. His eyes were a dark blue, as if they were little pieces of the midnight sky cut into his eyes. Rookie also felt his strength, for when he shook her hand, she swore he almost broke it.

Falcon was only an inch or so taller than Axel, but his looks were completely different. Everything about him was defined; the shape of his jaw, the slope of his nose, his quick hands and his sharp eyes. His hair was a golden blonde, a shade darker than Rookie's. His eyes were a very light shade of green, they were almost yellow. He was very cordial, asking how she was doing as they spit-shook.

Viper was either Italian or Spanish, tanned skin to match dark hair. He didn't sound either, though, spoke with a perfect Brooklyn accent (if there is such a thing). His eyes were so dark brown they were practically black, matching his hair. His hair was combed neatly back, and everything about him -his straight posture, his dark clothing, his hair, his eyes- said one thing; slick. He was handsome, Rookie had to admit, but felt no attraction as her heart only belonged to one particular newsie King.

When all the introductions were over, the party began. Everyone started talking to everyone, a card game started and the beer came out. Rookie sighed and sat by herself on a bunk. She didn't want to play cards, she didn't care for beer and she didn't feel like associating with Viper. Viper was standing by himself, staring at the card game. He didn't seem to actually watching, only staring off into a world of his own. And apparently, he was also lost in this world because Rookie watched him not move a muscle when Kid Blink tossed a "'ey Vipa," as he walked by.

Two hours went by of Rookie walking around the room, sipping one of her sodas, having a spoonful of soup and a piece of bread, and entering some random conversations. It was all extremely boring, and even the newsies seemed not to be enjoying themselves as they usually did when they got together.

"Hey, Itey!" Rookie said, walking over to him as his conversation ended with Falcon and he walked away. He turned around and smiled at her in his usual pleasant disposition.

"What's up, Rook?" he asked her as she coughed in her fist.

"Nothing," Rookie replied, clearing her throat. "And that nothing is going to drive me crazy. This is your idea of a party, drinking, card games and standing around and talking?"

"Well, no," Itey replied. "We usually have parties hosted by Medda, but she had too many shows tahnight ta help us out. We's kinda just wingin' it tahnight."

"But what about dancing?" Rookie asked. "What about having fun. This isn't a party, this is a gathering of newsies." Itey seemed to consider the thought before nodding.

"What doya tink could liven tings up?" he asked. Rookie shrugged.

"Can you dance?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I rememba a few steps dat someone taught me a while ago," he replied. "But it's not dat sissy waltz dat chyou richies do."

"Good," Rookie replied with a smile. "Can you teach me?"

"Uh, Rookie, dere's no music," Itey replied slowly, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. Rookie thought this over quickly, before looking around the room.

"Boots, Snipeshooter!" she called across the room. The two broke their conversation with Skittery and Specs and walked over to Rookie and Itey.

"What's up?" Boots asked as they reached them.

"Can you drum up a beat?" Rookie asked them. Both of them looked to each other and then nodded. "Great. Itey, describe the kind of beat you want and I'll go down and ask Kloppman if he has pots and pans down there that you can use."

"He should," Boots said thoughtfully.

"What for?" Snipeshooter asked.

"You'll see," Rookie replied. She looked to Itey, who nodded. She slipped out of the room and went downstairs to go look for the pots and pans and boxes that they would need for Snipshooter and Boots to be able to drum out.

When she returned with a box filled with old pots and pans, she received a few odd side glances as she walked over to where Itey was talking animatedly to the two younger newsies. When they were set up, they began tap out the beat. It was one Rookie had never heard before, light and happy and alive. The first few bars were filled with staccatos and fortes, and she immediately found her self taken away.

Itey took her right hand in his left and placed his right on her left hip. She lay her left hand and laid it on his right shoulder. "Folla my lead," Itey instructed. He pulled her into the part of the room where there was the most room and they began to dance. He brought her around the floor in a flurry of perfectly choreographed moved, as if he had many a practices of the dance.

They attracted a lot of attention, every newsie in the room (plus Sarah) turned to watch them dance. They seemed to look mildly interested, and even Dazzle looked towards the two with some sort of envy. Even when Rookie tripped, Itey was able to lift her off the ground to make it look natural.

"You remembered just a few steps?" Rookie asked her dance partner with a smile.

"It's just da same few steps ova and ova again," Itey replied. "Now I'm gonna spin ya out. Don't let go of my hand an' I'll spin ya back in." Rookie nodded and spun out, but lost grip of Itey's hand. But instead of just falling over herself, she kept spinning. When she stopped, it wasn't gracefully and she was very dizzy, but she still got a few cheers.

She walked over to Itey and he smiled at her. "Good job," he said. She thanked him in between her coughing and laughed when she finished.

"That was so much fun," she said with a broad smile.

"Looks like da udda's thought so too," Itey said, acknowledging behind her. She turned around and saw that Kid Blink had asked Dazzle to dance, and she accepted.

Mush walked over to Rookie and Itey. "'ey Itey," he said. "Doya mind if I steal dis goil from ya? It's beena long time since I've danced." Itey nodded and Rookie tooke Mush's hand. He led her out and led her into a dance. They swept around, rounding about the area with Dazzle and Blink.

Rookie saw Spot ask Echo to dance, and soon they were on the floor together. They kept their eyes locked, and they seemed to be having a rather intense conversation. She also took notice that Spot was no longer wearing the fleece she had bought him, but the blue shirt that he had replaced for it in the carriage. Suddenly, Rookie had a very bad stomach ache and had to slip off of the floor. Mush asked her if she was alright and she just nodded, claiming she needed a bit of fresh air.

She took a new soda bottle and walked out into the hallway. She opened the window and walked out onto the fire escape. Climbing up the escape, she reached the roof and walked over to the edge that faced toward the Brooklyn Bridge and stared out onto it. She coughed a few times, which caused her to wonder when she would be well again. If she had been home, two days of bed rest and cough syrup and she would have been perfectly fine.

Wait a second. Why was she think of home?

_But it isn't _home_ any longer,_ she told herself sternly. _I'm free of that damned cage now, I don't have to have a home._

**You don't have to have a home,** another part of her mind told her. **But you **want** one.**

_I know._

She let out a deep sigh, taking off her hat and running her fingers through her hair. Sitting down on the cold stone, she brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs tightly. She rested her head onto her knees and closed her eyes, allowing herself to wander off into thoughts of her own life.

At this moment, if she was still Brooklyn, she would be at some fancy gala for one government charity or another. She would be dressed in a beautiful gown with jewels around her neck, on her wrists and fingers, even in her hair. She would be dancing with Cal -she shuddered- and eating the finest food that money could buy. She certainly wouldn't be sitting out in the freezing cold, practically coughing her lungs up every few minutes.

She lay flat on her back and stared up into the cloudy sky, presuming that it was to start snowing in a matter of minutes. She sure hoped that it would, as she really did enjoy it. She laughed to herself as she fell into a memory of a trip upstate to visit her Aunt Muriel and Uncle Frederick.

The visit was for Christmas, and it had snowed so hard that they couldn't leave the house for two days straight. In those two days, Brooklyn talked with her father about everything under the sun, almost nothing was out-of-bounds in their conversations, not even how ridiculously red Antoinette's face got when she was very angry.

_**-Flashback-**_

"_**That comes from your mother," Harold said with a small smile as he looked over at Brooklyn. "But you, you're more like me. When I get angry, people say that I get fierce and rather single-minded, I don't turn into a tomato. No, you're more like me than your mother, luckily for me. I don't think I would be able to handle three Mary-Ann Parkers."**_

_**-End flashback-**_

Rookie laughed as she mulled upon the memories. How she missed her father so. A warm tear rolled down her cheek and she shivered as she wiped it away. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she did feel a pang of homesickness. After all, Antoinette had her moments when she wasn't a complete witch and Rupert always proved for nice carriage conversations once and a while. She missed her goose-downed bed and thermal comforter, along with hot baths in her porcelain bathtub. But most of all, she missed her little terrier, Rose.

Even Rookie wondered why she missed her dog the most. She figured that she missed the dog for a few different reasons that she could count off in her head.

One of the biggest reasons had to be that Rose was a present from her father, and her father only. Not only was Mary Ann infuriated that Harold had not told her about the gift, but she was ultimately upset that he had not also bought a puppy for Antoinette. Rookie remembered feeling proud that her father had gotten a special present just for her.

Another reason, she guessed, was that dogs couldn't gossip. After her father died, she didn't have anyone to talk to. Antoinette and her mother couldn't keep their mouths closed, even about private family matters. If Brooklyn had needed to talk, she would sit in her room and talk to Rose while she did her needlework or before she went to sleep. Dogs were incapable of telling one's secret, and they always were good listeners.

Her other reason, Rookie supposed, was that Rose was a source of unconditional love. No matter what, Rose had always loved Brooklyn. She was never angry with Brooklyn, and held no high expectations -or any expectations, for the matter- for her. Rose always seemed happy to be with her, no matter what she did or how she acted. No one she had ever met had ever treated her with such acceptance.

Rookie forced herself to cough to stifle a choke, another tear rolling down her cheeks. She missed having that unconditional love an acceptance she had found with Rose. The newsies were great, really great, but in a completely different way. They were like her brothers, her friends, but Rose had been her companion. Rookie knew that she couldn't have Rose back, but she really wanted another dog for a taste of that companionship once again. Maybe when she earned enough money she could by herself one. Maybe.

Something cold and wet touched her nose, causing a series of shivers to run through her body. "Brrr," she mumbled. She opened her eyes and set them to the sky straight above her and saw a few snowflakes beginning to float lightly to the earth below. She smiled, even though the frigid air had her so cold that her teeth were clattering together and she was rubbing her arms to keep them warm.

She closed her eyes again and pulled her large shirt collar over her chin. Yawning to herself, she started to slowly drift and doze away from where she lay. She was so cold, but suddenly a wave of exhaustion took over her and all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. She was so close to sleep, so very close to drifting off into Nod. She could practically see her dream beginning, she was almost there.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, causing Rookie to jolt upward into a normal sitting position. She coughed and dusted some snow off of her clothing as she turned and looked behind her. There was Spot, twirling his can and staring at her with his eyebrows raised.

"What are ya doin' out heah?" he asked her in a drawl. His words weren't slurred, but she knew that he had been drinking downstairs during a card game. So she stood up and walked towards him, away from the edge of the building.

"Leaving," she replied shortly. If he wanted to be cold to her, she would be cold to him. She went to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. She huffed and went to go the other way, but he cut in front of her once more with ease.

"What are you doing?" she snapped in frustration. "Get out of my way or leave." She closed her mouth quickly, knowing she had taken it a bit too far with her rudeness. But Spot didn't bat an eyelash, only looked mildly surprised.

"Make me," he said easily. There was a trace of command in his nonchalant tone.

"What?" Rookie asked in disbelief. A highly intelligent reply -hah-, but she couldn't believe what he had told her.

"Ya hoid me, 'Rookie'," he replied with a cocky smirk. "I's gonna stand heah 'til ya make me move." Rookie narrowed her eyes at him and turned around, walking back to her original spot, now covered with a thin layer of snow.

"Just call Echo up here and that'll make you move," she hissed under her breath.

"What'd chyou say?" Spot asked quickly.

"Nothing," Rookie replied, her eyes searching for the Bridge through the darkness and the snow. She could just see the silhouette of it's towering structure and the cords that held it up. Coughing, she scuffed her shoe on the cement, determined not to say a word more to Spot.

_Let's see how he likes being ignored,_ she thought to herself bitterly.

"Chyou should come inside," Spot said suddenly. "Ya don't need ta get sicka den ya are."

"I'm not sick," she replied primly. "I've just got a-" she coughed "-little bit of a cough. What do you care anyway?" She coughed again into the crook of her elbow, her eyes tearing with the force of her hacks.

"Ya sound poifect," Spot said sarcastically. "Jack and me don't need no newsies getting' sick. Chyou've been out heah foah two hours. Come in."

"I don't want to," Rookie replied flatly. "I'd rather not be surrounded by a bunch of drunk guys, thanks-you-very-much." She had no tolerance for him at the moment. The warning Jack had given her about Spot was running through her mind, reminding her that it had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life to kiss him and let herself fall fast and hard for him.

"Dere's Echo and Dazzle, ya gotta get used ta dem." Rookie gave a short, harsh, bark of a laugh and shook her head.

"You've yet to answer-" she coughed "-my question, Spot," she snapped. "Why do you care-" she coughed "-all of a sudden, Spot? I am still not going back to Brooklyn, not yet."

There was a silence. Spot didn't say a word and Rookie didn't dare make a move. She just moved her eyes back to the snow, watching them twist and turn as they fell onto the street, on the roof, on her sleeve. The only sound was of her coughing. This felt too awkward, too much like this morning. Rookie wanted to get out of the situation as fast as she could. She turned around abruptly, but ran straight in to Spot who had been walking up behind her. He grabbed her upper arms to steady her from falling backward, yet when she steadied herself, he still didn't let go.

"Why?" he asked her intensely, his eyes boring holes into hers. Though her skin flared where he touched her, Jack's warning ran through her head over and over.

"You wouldn't understand," she replied through her teeth. "Please, let go of me and leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone. After this morning, it shouldn't be that hard." His face turned to stone and he let go of her.

"Ya don't trust me no more," he said coldly. She stood still and just stared at him. She didn't know if she trusted him anymore. At least not like she did a few nights ago. Did she trust him to protect her or stand up for her? Absolutely. Did she trust him to, if she was to go with him to Brooklyn, to make sure that she fit in, worked well and wasn't recognized? Without a doubt. But did she trust him with any part of her heart? Well she wasn't sure anymore, she would really have to think it over.

"Don't freeze," Spot snapped coldly, turning away. Rookie choked, stifling tears and trying not to cough. Spot stomped down the fire escape and she heard the window open below her. She coughed hard, rubbing her throat which was starting to hurt. She turned back to face out over the city and to the river, sitting down and pulling her knees to her chest. It was getting cold out, really cold, but she didn't want to go back into the lodging house.

She let her hair out of her braid and her locks fall over her ears and put her head down on her knees and coughed. She brought her arms crossed in between her legs and her stomach in hopes of keeping them warm. Closing her eyes, she hoped for sleep. She wished for sleep. She fell asleep.

--

"Rookie!" Rookie woke with a start as she heard her name called. She was freezing, snow was practically blanketing her. She stood up shakily, stumbling slightly. She could barely feel her feet, and her hands were numb. Her ears hurt they were so frozen and she couldn't feel her nose. She turned to see who had called her name, but in the snow only saw their outline.

"What da hell are ya still doin' out heah?" it was Spot. She walked over to the silhouette, dusting herself off. She was shivering uncontrollably, and only wanted to be warm. She flew into his arms, burying her head in his chest. She would have done the same thing to anyone who had found her, be it Spot or Mush or Itey or Jack or even Viper.

"Christ, Brooklyn!" he said, calling her by her original name. "Yer like a freakin' ice block or sumthin!" She felt him wrap something around her and then pulled her close. She coughed into his chest, but he didn't do anything to show that he protested. He just held her there, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them.

"We gotta getcha in dere," he said under his breath. She nodded and he led her over the steps and led her carefully down the fire escape. When they got to the window, he helped her over and led her down the hallway. But instead of leading her into the bunkroom, he led her into the sick room. He brought her over to the bed and placed her gently on it. She thanked him through clattering teeth and he didn't respond. He placed another blanket on her and paced around the room.

"What da hell were ya doin' up dere on da roof for so long? It's almost midnight!" he snapped at her. She followed him with her eyes, snuggling under the thin blanket and the fleece he had - the fleece! He had took his fleece and wrapped it around her. It was warming her quickly, but she was still shivering in her damp clothing.

"I don't know Spot, I was trying to get away from all of the guys," she replied, coughing slightly. "And then you just got me so upset that-"

"I got chyou upset?" Spot asked incredulously. "Are ya kiddin' me Brookl-Rookie?" He quickly corrected himself, remembering her new name. "I tell ya ta get inside sos ya don't freeze ta death, and chyou get all nasty wit me an' suddenly ya don't trust me no more?"

"Well you didn't give me a very good reason to today!" Rookie replied in an exasperated exclamation. She coughed before continuing; "I tell you that I'm enjoying it here and that I wasn't ready to go back to Brooklyn, and you completely ignore me, all of today. And then you expect me to tell you why I don't want to go back there yet? You've shown me today that you wouldn't be rational enough to understand."

Spot paced in front of the bed, glancing to and from her to the floor. He walked over to the bed and sat down by her feet. "Tell me," he commanded. "And if I don't get it, well den chyou can stay heah. But if I do, well den ya owe me sumethin."

"What?" Rookie asked, coughing once.

"Trust me," Spot said with the most serious tone she had ever heard him use in her short time of knowing him. Biting her lip, she nodded.

"All right then," she said with a nod. "I remember telling you that Brooklyn, my house, my family, was like one tiny little cage. Do you remember?" Spot nodded. "Well it was a cage, and to tell you the truth, I'm a little afraid of re-entering that cage. If I get caught, that door gets shut and I'm right back to where I started, perhaps in a worse state."

"Dat won't happen," Spot replied assuredly. "Chyou won't get caught. I'll make shoah of it myself." Rookie shook her head slightly, looking at the wall opposite her.

"You can't promise that, Spot," she replied. "You can't promise that my good friend Amelia won't be walking down the street and decide to buy a pape. Well what if she recognizes me? It's not even been a week, she hasn't forgotten my face. And what about my sister? We grew up together, side-by-side. I admit, I'm not too fond of her, but we know each other. And she can't forget my face. Slap some blonde hair and freckles on her and there's Brooklyn. And my mother, she may be oblivious, but she'll know her own daughter."

"But we can keep ya away from all of dem," he told her. She shook her head again.

"What if Antoinette is walking Rose -my terrier, remember?- down the street? What if by some miracle Antoinette doesn't recognize me? Rose will. My little dog is a smart thing. She'll recognize my smell, she'll know it's me. She'll have a fit and Antoinette or whoever is walking her will have to stop, and that will give them enough time to look at me and notice that I'm Brooklyn. Spot, we need to wait a little while before I can go back there." She turned her head and did the best that she could to cough into her shoulder. When she finished, she turned back to Spot. "I'm sorry, but not only can I not go back there for precautionary reasons, but I don't think that I'm mentally ready for it."

Spot stared at her , and nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll make da arrangements wit Jack-y boy. I'll be right back." And with that, he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Rookie sitting there with her mouth hanging partially open. He had understood, he actually understood. In all truth, she had expected him to get angry or frustrated with her. But he understood, he actually understood.

Now what did she owe him?

He came back into the room a few minutes later, and just as he did, some bells in a church far off began to chime.

One chime, two chime, three chime.

Spot walked slowly over to her bedside and looked down at her. "Cowboy says dat it ain't no problem for you ta stay heah a while longa." Rookie smiled and nodded.

Seven chime, eight chime, nine chime.

Spot bent down slightly, moving more towards Rookie. "Remembah I said dat chyou would owe me sumthin?" he asked her. She nodded slowly, and watched him move closer to her. He stared at her lips briefly, before moving his stormy blue eyes back to meet her jade. "Well ya gotta promise me sumethin'." Rookie nodded again, letting out another small cough.

Ten chime, eleven chime, **twelve chime.**

Rookie hardly had time to think about how they just entered the new millennia, as Spot was holding her gaze. "Chyou owe me yer trust. Ya gotta trust me, Rookie." She nodded.

"What about Echo?" she mumbled quietly. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Echo?" he said, his eyes laughing at her. She was trying to ignore the fact that they were hardly inches away from each other. "Echo is one of da best goil newsies I've got. She's also a real good boidie. She goes around ta all da boroughs and checks out da goings on, and den reports back ta me. When we was dancin' she was tellin' me bout some fight dat broke out in Harlem consoinin' my name." He paused and he searched her face for an explanation.

"Were chyou, jealous of her?" he asked her, a superior smile growing on his face. "Why, Miss. Rookie, dat would mean dat chyou got sumthin ta tell me, wouldn't it?" She couldn't help but laugh and nod.

"But you have to come closer, it's a secret," she whispered harshly. He smirked and leaned closer. She leaned up and angled her face towards his ear. "I trust you," she whispered, giving a little cough. When she looked back to him, their noses were millimeters away from each other.

"You betta," he replied in a whisper, a smirk playing his lips. "Happy New Yeah, Brookie baby." And with that he moved his head slightly and captured her lips with his. Her whole body felt numb and she kissed him back willingly.

"Happy New Year, Spot," she replied as she drew back to take a breath. She raised her lips back to his and brought them into another kiss. He placed his hands on her side and brought her slowly up to a sitting position. She took her arms from underneath the blanket and fleece and wrapped them gently around his waist, leaving them there. And for how long, she didn't know, they were locked in that moment, in the first minute of the year nineteen hundred, warnings and cares and doubts forgotten.

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**Author's Note:**** -smiles- Did you just love it? I had fun writing this chapter, as it took a few unexpected turns that I really didn't expect. This story is heading in a different direction then I had originally expected, but I hope you stick with me because it might take a little longer to produce chapters now because of this unexpected change.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it, and I wish I could tell you approximately when chapter eleven will be out but I can't, I'm sorry. I have a good grasp on what's going to happen in twelve, but I kind of need a filler chapter, so I've gotta take a day or two to break and relax and bring something up that will keep this fic going.**

**Please, review if you liked it, critique if you didn't!**

**xEques**

**P.S Thanks to Seren McGowan and chacotan for your great reviews on chapter nine!**


	11. A Song's Resemblance

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

Chapter Eleven;;

**A Song's Resemblance**

_Disclaimer: I do not, never have and never will own Newsies. I do own Brooklyn though, and any character that wasn't from the movie._

**Author's Note:**** This story is taking a different turn than I had originally planned, so please bear with me if it takes a little longer to produce a chapter. **

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_What a horrible night,_ Rookie thought to herself as she crept across the floor of the sick room in the lodging house. Besides the kiss -or many, for that matter- that she had shared with Spot, her night had been terrible. Because she had stayed out in the freezing cold and snow for about three hours, her cough had worsened considerably, and she felt that her head was going to explode. She was up practically the whole night long, suffering pathetically. As she crept across the floor, she felt as if she was only half alive. To make her morning worse, she was covered in naught but the fleece Spot let her wear and the blanket she had slept under.

No, she and Spot had not done _it._ After Rookie had told Spot that she would be fine on her own, she had locked the door, stripped and lay her clothes out to dry. They had been extremely damp from the snow that had melted on them, and freezing cold. She had slept practically all natural that night so she wouldn't die of hypothermia from the freezing, wet clothes she had worn.

When she reached the chairs her clothes were draped on, she examined the cloth and made sure it had dried. It had, but the cloth was cold from the air that it had dried in. Dropping her blanket, she changed quickly into her proper clothing and re-made the bed, all the while coughing, wheezing, and moaning slightly from the all-around sick feeling she had. She folded Spot's fleece and placed it on the bed and left the room.

Rookie walked silently through the bunk room, observing the boys around her. They all should have been up by this time of the morning, but they had all gotten drunk out of their heads that previous night, and were making the right decision on sleeping in.

Rookie walked over in the direction of her bunk, holding a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from coughing out loud. Echo had passed out on her bed, an empty bottle of beer still clung by her hand. Rookie rolled her eyes and kneeled down next to her bed and pulled from underneath a small box. She walked over to the washroom and looked into one of the small mirrors.

She was very surprised by her reflection. She was paler than usual, with bags under her eyes. When she coughed, her eyes would tear up and her cheeks flushed an odd shade of pink. She turned away from the mirror and brushed her hair quickly. She pulled her locks back into a low-lying pony tail and put her hat over it. She brushed her teeth and shoved a few coins in her pocket, along with her slingshot and marbles.

When she got back to her bunk, she lifted the corner of the mattress carefully, as not to wake its present attendant. She placed the small box in the corner next to a soda bottle she hadn't yet drank from. She placed the mattress back over the box and then quickly and carefully trotted downstairs, coughing harshly as she did so. She wanted to take a break and sleep in like the other newsies had, but she needed some money to make up for the soda that she had bought last night. She had something on her mind that she wanted to buy, and she was still more than short on money.

She wrote a quick note to the guys and left it on Kloppman's desk. He wasn't even up yet, he must have been enjoying the effects of newsboys (plus Dazzle and Echo) with alcohol. After the note was written and left, she quietly left the lodging house and headed towards where the nuns and their carts usually parked. Though she didn't feel that hungry, she figured it better that she ate something and had something to drink.

The nuns were about to leave by the time she had shown up. The pounding of her head had made it difficult for her to walk at a normal pace, so she must have dropped three speeds. Her coughs got their attention and they quickly stopped to give her some breakfast.

"Where are the others, child?" the first nun she had met, Sister Anna, asked as she handed Rookie a cup of coffee. Rookie immediately put it to her lips. She was cold, and just the walk to the cart had made her thirstier than she thought she would be.

"There was a party at the lodging house to celebrate the New Year, sister," Rookie replied respectfully. "And all the boys are" - she coughed - "sleeping in today as another way of celebrating." Of course she didn't tell Sister Anna the whole story. After all, how would 'Oh, the guys? Well they all got drunk out of their minds last night, and they're so sick from the alcohol that they won't wake up for another few hours,' sound to a nun?

"Then why aren't you sleeping in as well, child?" Rookie shifted slightly on her feet, taking another gulp of the stale coffee.

"I need to eat tonight, sister," she replied quietly. "I can not afford to go even half a day without selling papers." And it was perhaps that reason that sister Anna didn't ask about her current state of health and gave her two pieces of bread before shooing her off with words of blessing.

She got twenty newspapers, just enough to get her a good amount of coin, but not enough to have her walk around all day. She figured business would be good today, seeing as she would be one of the only newsies in Manhattan out and about. But being the only Manhattan Newsie out also had a daunting, negative side to it. If she got into trouble, she'd be on her own to get out of it. If something happened to her, who would know? She gave a shakey sigh and coughed, trying to rid the eerie thought from her mind.

--

Rookie didn't think that she would ever sell as many newspapers as fast as she sold hers that morning. It was hardly noon and she only had one paper left to sell. She wondered if it was because people on the street had become sympathetic to her sickness or frustrated that she was one of the only newsies out selling papers. All she needed was one more person to buy her paper, just one more…

She saw a women walking in her direction. She looked middle-class, and very motherly with kind eyes. Quickly, Rookie forced her coughs out of her chest and called out the headline. The woman walked towards her, and this time Rookie didn't have to force her coughs.

"Buy my last pape, Miss?" she asked politely, holding out the paper. She coughed into the crook of her elbow, tears coming to her eyes with the painful force. And instead of buying the paper or leaving, the woman's hand went straight to Rookie's forehead. Surprised by the woman's action, Rookie stood still rigidly.

"My dear, you're burning up," the woman announced as she removed her hand from Rookie's forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I'm a little under the weather," Rookie replied as easily as possible, coughing afterwards.

"Then why are you out here in the freezing cold?" the woman interrogated. "Shouldn't you be back at your lodging house?" Rookie was slightly surprised by the woman's knowledge of the lodging house, it was surprising how many people didn't know what one was.

"Well, Miss, I've got to eat," she said, coughing. "And if I skipped working today, I wouldn't be able to."

"Have you been to see a doctor?" the woman persisted. "Or do you have medication for that cough you've got there?" Usually Rookie would have been a little annoyed at how this woman kept persisting on her health, but she found herself enjoying the motherly attention that she was receiving. Her own mother had never even took an interest on her sicknesses as much as this woman had.

"Doctors and medicine cost money, Miss," Rookie replied softly, clearing her throat to prevent a cough. "A lot of money that I don't have, nor could I spend if I did." The woman seemed slightly disgruntled, but fell silent into thought.

"I'll take your last paper," she finally said. "If you let me take you to see a doctor."

"Oh no, no, no Miss," Rookie replied coughing. "I told you, I can't pay and-"

"I'll pay," the woman replied. When Rookie went to protest, she put a hand up. "I'll pay." her tone had become firm. "Now come along, child." Rookie couldn't believe her ears, but she had no time to think about it before she was being dragged down the street by this woman. She hoped that the newsies wouldn't see her. They should have been up by now, and starting towards the distribution center if they weren't there now. Jack or Spot or Mush (or all three) would have a fit if they saw that she was putting herself in danger of being discovered.

The doctor's office looked like a regular apartment on the outside, and basically was on the inside. What would have been some sort of living room had been transformed into a waiting room, and the other two rooms were for examination.

The woman, whose name Rookie had learned was Mrs. Addams, signed her in with the receptionist and told her that the doctor would see her as soon as possible. There were only two other people in the room, and neither of them looked terribly ill. Hopefully it would be a quick wait and a quick examination with quick results. She would have to get back soon, hopefully Jack would be able to keep Spot calm if he got riled up that she wasn't there.

**--Back at the Lodging House: 1:00P.M--**

"Whea's Rookie?" Spot asked as he stalked out of the sick room, clutching the fleece he had lent her for the night in his right hand. "She's not in da sick room. Where da hell is she?" Jack's attention was caught first, and he walked over to Spot.

"What do ya mean 'where's Rookie'?" he questioned. "She was in da sick room last time I hoid from her. Whea could she've gone?" Jack paused and thought a moment, before turning to his newsies and asking them if they had seen them. When his answer was the shaking of many newsies' heads, he turned back to Spot. "Check da roof, I'll check downstairs. She's gotta be around heah somewhea, why would she just go on an walk out when dat would be da stupidest thing in da woild foah her. She might be a rookie, but she shoah ain't some stupid goily-goil no more." The two leaders split up to look for the missing newsie.

"'ey Spot!" Jack called upstairs when Kloppman showed him the note that the lodging house keeper had found on his desk that morning. Spot came trotting down the stairs heavily, looking at the note Jack was waving in his right hand questionably.

"I found that on my desk this mornin'," Kloppman explained. "It's from Rookie. Says that she was going to go out sellin' papes. She must have left real early, because I was out and about doing some chores at about eight o'clock and I didn't see her while I was down here. I was wipin' down my desk when I found her note here."

"Why would she go out ta sell papes?" Spot asked tightly. "She's already sick, an' she ain't gettin' no better eitha." Jack shrugged his shoulders and put the note back on the desk.

"She's loinin' ta stand on her own feet, Spot," he replied easily. "She's gonna have ta, we can't always be dere ta protect her when she calls. But if she gets herself inta some real bad trouble -she won't- den we'll bail her outta it." Spot still stood rigid, staring at Jack incredulously, wondering how he could act so calm over something he was practically sweating over.

"Loinin' ta stand on her own feet," he mumbled in a mimicking tone under his breath. Jack raised an eyebrow in slight amusement and shook his head. Spot, however, turned is back to the Manhattan leader and called up the stairs; "Echo, Viper, Falcon! Get down heah now." It was mere seconds before three pairs of feet were heard coming down the stairs, very slowly.

"Do ya haveta yell so loud Spot?" Echo moaned, rubbing her head. Ah, the side effects of too much alcohol. "Some of us can't keep down beah like chyou can." Spot sharpened his eyes, telling her silently that she had better shut her mouth immediately. She followed the silent command without fuss, adverting her eyes to the ground.

"Unlike Jack-y boy heah," Spot said to his newsies, like a Colonel addressing his soldiers. "I don't like da idea of Rookie bein' out on her own, sos I needs chyou guys ta go an' look foah her." Though the two male newsies nodded, Echo was the one to rebel against orders.

"Why do we's gotta go out lookin' foah dis goil?" she snapped. "If she was Brooklyn material, den she woulda been smart enough ta stay heah and sleep." Spot glared at her.

"You's gotta go lookin' foah Rookie coz I told ya too," he replied, his eyes flashing. "You betta simma down, Echo, or dat attitude chyou got is gonna get chyou in a lotta trouble." Though Echo's facial expression remained hardened, she obeyed orders and didn't say another word. Spot shook his head before giving out orders.

Falcon was to go to the distribution center and start north from there. Echo was to go to Tibby's and start south from the restaurant. And Viper was to start from the distribution center also, except he was going to head west.

"Bring her back heah," Spot commanded before sending them off.

"Why are ya so worried 'bout Rookie, Spot?" Jack asked, looking at him with a small smirk on his lips. "I mean, we all know dat chyou got special feelins' foah her-" Spot glared angrily at his fellow leader "-but why are ya so uptight? Shoah, she's a little sick, but it ain't like she's gonna die or nothing." Though seeing the serious expression on Spot's face, he became serious as well. "Do ya know somethin' we don't, Spot?"

Spot shook his head. "If I did, Jack-y boy, I would be out dere myself tearin' apart da streets foah her."

"Why aren't ya doin' dat now?" Jack's voice had softened, and now lay in between the boundaries of serious and concerned.

"Coz I don't think dat she needs any help," he replied. "But I want her back heah sos I can see dat she's all right wit me own two eyes."

"Do chyou really care about Rookie, Spot? Really care about her?" Jack interrogated. "Or are ya just usin' yer eyes and seein' da resemblance dat all of my boys see?" Spot turned away from Jack, taking his cane from his suspenders and whipping it out like a sword. In an angry motion he swiped at the wall, a loud _**'crack'**_ resounding from the force he had hit it with.

Spot turned his head slightly so he could just see Jack out of the corner of his eye. "If chyou even toss da name inta a convasation, _Sullivan_, I'll wring yer neck." And with that, he smacked the wall again and stalked back up the stairs.

**-At the Doctor's Office, 1:30 P.M-**

Rookie shifted nervously on the examination table, coughing every so often. Mrs. Addams looked at everything but her, as if she did, she would catch Rookie's sickness. This behavior caused Rookie to wonder why the sudden change of heart. She had been extremely attentive in the waiting room, she even had the receptionist get her a warm cup of water for her throat. But as soon as they entered the examination room, she went into a stony silence, and mostly stared at her feet.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Addams?" Rookie asked tentatively, giving a short cough. The woman sighed and shook her head.

"Not now, child," she replied. "Be quiet and wait for the doctor." Her tone was a step below morose, flat and slow. Rookie didn't take her command as arrogant or controlling, but as the woman simply wanted a little bit of peace and quiet. To the fifteen year-old, it seemed as Mrs. Addams did not like being in the doctor's office.

A tall man with circular, wire-rimmed glasses walked into the room, his white coat swishing behind him. He had a small smile on his face that made Rookie feel comfortable. When she was Brooklyn, her doctor's eyes were sharp and his features pointy. She had never seen the man smile, not once, and she was pretty sure that he was a little was attracted to Mary-Ann, and had made moves on her even when Harold was alive.

"Hello," the doctor's voice broke her thoughts and she snapped back into reality. "My name is Doctor Murray, and it says on my chart that you are Mrs. Jane Addams and you are…Rookie?" Rookie nodded. "Well, Rookie, what seems to be the problem?"

Rookie explained about how her cough had been growing steadily over the past week, and how her head was throbbing and her throat was hurting. "She's also got quite the fever," Mrs. Addams added, her tone a little shaky.

"Well that's quite the list," Doctor Murray replied with a reassuring smile. "Well lets listen to those lungs of your and then we'll get your temperature." Rookie nodded, coughing harshly, which caused Doctor Murray to scribble something down on her chart.

After listening to her lungs, seeing her throat and checking her temperature -one hundred and two point one, yikes-, Doctor Murray deduced that she was in the early stages of bronchitis. He told Rookie that she would have to stay in bed and rest and take cough syrup for ten days, twice a day. She nodded, afraid to tell him that she didn't have money for cough syrup.

But to her surprise, Mrs. Addams paid for her cough syrup. "Mrs. Addams," Rookie said as they left the office. "You really shouldn't have, this is much too much." Mrs. Addams remained silent; Rookie figured that she was either ignoring her or thinking about something. Either way, the woman brought her to Tibby's, which Rookie was rather nervous about being at. If the newsies saw her…

Mrs. Addams got the two of them a table and forced Rookie to order a lunch, even though Rookie had insisted that she couldn't accept anymore from her. But the motherly woman wouldn't hear of it.

"You remind me of my daughter, child," she said suddenly, sipping her tea. "More than you could ever imagine."

"Really?" Rookie asked as she sipped her hot chocolate. "That's pretty nifty, how old is your daughter?"

"She would have been seventeen in April," the woman replied, the color draining slightly from her cheeks. Rookie froze, realizing what "would have been" meant in a delayed heartbeat.

"Oh, Mrs. Addams, I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "My deepest, sincerest condolences to you and your family." Rookie finally got a bit of a grasp of why Mrs. Addams had instantly taken over when she discovered that Rookie was sick. It was her motherly instinct, and if Rookie reminded her a lot of her daughter, then the poor woman probably couldn't walk away from her.

"Yes, thank you," Mrs. Addams replied with a small nod. "When she was fifteen."

_That's a little frightening,_ Rookie thought to herself. She was about to say something, when Mrs. Addams continued.

"She was a newsie, just like you," she said after she took another sip of her tea. "My husband broke is hand in a factory accident, and since I had to stay home to tend to him, she was the only one eligible to get a job. She became friends with a boy named Jack Kelly, and he helped her get a job with the newsies." She paused, sniffled and took a gulp of her tea in the most un-lady-like way. "She fell ill, with your same symptoms. But she refused to let me take her to the doctor's, always using our lack of money at the time as her excuse."

Rookie nodded, listening. She glanced out the window nervously to see Viper walking on the other side of the street. She knocked her fork off of the table on accident, excused herself and then bent down to get it. She stayed down there five seconds before coming back up and looking out the window. Viper was gone, so she turned back to Mrs. Addams.

"Sorry," she said. "Please, continue."

"So she refused to see the Doctor, and her symptoms only got worse," Mrs. Addams explained. "When she finally agreed to go to the Doctor's, she had no other choice. She could hardly breath when she walked, and according to her she had a mighty bad migraine almost all of the time." Rookie nodded solemnly, now very glad that she had gone to see Doctor Murray. "She passed away two days after she saw Doctor Fells, he works at the same office as Doctor Murray."

Rookie nodded again. "Mrs. Addams, I'm so sorry. What was your daughter's name, I'll ask Jack if he remembers her."

"Katarina," Mrs. Addams replied. "But she always told me how the newsies called her 'Song' because of her love of singing. Please, do give the boys my greetings and well-wishings, as I have met many of them before." Rookie nodded earnestly.

"Oh of course, ma'am," she replied. "It will be the first thing I ask them when I get back to the lodging house."

"Thank you."

The two ate in silence for the next half an hour. When they had finished their meals, they stood up and walked towards the entrance. Rookie was carrying her bag of medicine close to her side, clutching it tightly.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Addams," she said as they got to the door, coughing quickly into her shoulder. "By bringing me to see Doctor Murray" - she coughed - "you have probably saved my life. I will be eternally grateful to you." She handed the woman her last newspaper, which she had kept in her pocket through the whole ordeal. "I'll make sure that you never have to pay for another newspaper again."

"You are very welcome," replied Mrs. Addams with a smile. "And I hope you see why I could not simply leave you on the streets?" Rookie nodded and coughed into the crook of her elbow. She was about to say goodbye when Mrs. Addams scooped her into a tight hug.

"I hope to see you around, Rookie," she said. "God bless." And with that, she released Rookie from her embrace and left. Rookie heard her choke, and figured the older woman was probably on the verge of tears. Looking down to her paper bag that held her bottle of cough syrup, she smiled and watched the woman bustle down the street.

As soon as she stepped out of the restaurant, a strong hand grabbed her upper arm. Rookie turned around with a; "Hey! Get the hell off me!", only to see that it was Viper who was holding onto her arm. A little shocked by her response, he let go of her arm.

"Come," he told her sternly. "Chyou've got a lotta explainin' ta do ta Spot an' Cowboy when we get back ta da lodgin' house." He started walking off, and, afraid of the consequences if she didn't follow, Rookie followed right behind him.

When they got back to the lodging house, Spot was the first one to approach her. She coughed as he took her by the arm of her shirt and pulled her over to a chair. "Wheah in Christ's name have ya been, Rookie?" he asked sternly. "Do ya even undastand what coulda happened ta ya out dere?"

"But nothing happened like that happened, Spot," Rookie replied with a cough.

"Den what did happen, Rook?" Jack asked walking over beside the Brooklyn King. Rookie let out a string of coughs before delving into her escapades of the day. She got up to the part where Mrs. Addams told her why she had taken her to the doctor's office and paid for her bill.

"She said I reminded her of her own daughter," Rookie said slowly. "More than I would ever know." She then looked around at all of the newsies crowding around her. "She told me that her daughter had been a newsie and died of bronchitis. Who was Song Addams?"

And in one moment, in complete unison, every head turned to look at Spot. The King of Brooklyn turned his back to the group and stalked out of the room, clutching his cane so tight almost his whole hand had turned white from the restriction of blood. Dazzle came forward, though her eyes stared after her leader.

"Song Addams," she began slowly, turning towards Rookie. "Was da King's goil. And chyou, yer a spittin' image of her."

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Author's Note:** **My fingers have deceived me again! This chapter has taken another twist that I didn't expect, so chapter twelve will be what this chapter was _supposed_ to be before my fingers grew minds of their own. :P**


	12. Hello in There?

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Twelve: Hello in There?**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own Brooklyn, for I created her in me noggin'. Oh, and Echo, Dazzle, Viper, Falcon and Axel._

--

Rookie didn't know what to say, so she stayed silent. All eyes had turned on her to see her reaction, and Dazzle had a smirk playing her lips. _Does she think this is funny?_ Rookie wondered to herself bitterly. Without saying a word, Rookie got up and followed Spot's path out of the lodging house. He was in the back alley, shooting rocks out of his slingshot and into the brick wall. His back was to her, and it didn't appear that he had realized she had come up behind him.

"Spot?" she coughed. He turned around quickly, nearly dropping his slingshot. When he saw that it was Rookie, he turned back around and continued to fire the peoples he found under the snow at the wall. Rookie stayed quiet, watching as Spot hit the same point on the wall every time. She coughed a few times, remaining where she was.

"Why are ya out heah?" he asked her while he strung another pebble. "Ya should be upstahs restin', like dat docta ya saw told ya to."

"Because you need to talk to me," she replied, coughing at the end. Doctor Murray had given her the first dose of her cough medicine and already it had begun to ease her throat.

"Why would I _need_ ta tawk ta chyou?" Spot asked, sending another pebble flying into the wall. His accuracy was impeccable.

"Because you need to tell me who Song is, er, was."

"Ask Cowboy."

"No," Rookie replied defiantly, coughing. "I'm asking you." Spot turned around and stared at her. "Glare and scowl at me all" -she coughed- "you want, Spot. I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me." She sighed over zealously. "Which means I'll have to stay out here in the cold, where I'm most likely to get sicker than I already am and-"

"Wouldya shut dat mouth of yers?" Spot snapped at her as he turned around. "I'll tell ya bout her lata."

"No," Rookie repeated stubbornly. She knew Spot well enough to know that "lata" would never come. "You'll tell me now." His attitude was giving her an attitude, and her head was starting to throb again. Spot stared at her incredulously. His slightly widened eyes and straight-line lips showed that he was surprised that Rookie was challenging him.

"Nobody's watching, Spot," Rookie said, quiet and gentle this time. She didn't think that yelling and ordering the King of Brooklyn around would do her any good, so she tried to reason with him. "You don't have to act like this. Just tell me now and I won't bother you about it again. I'll never even say her name again." He stared at her for a moment, his expression blank. Walking over to a stack of crates, he knocked a few of them down with his cane so the stack only reached his waist.

"Sit," he told her. Quickly she moved around him and sat down, not letting him get a chance to change his mind. She coughed quickly and placed her little brown bag with the cough syrup in it on the space next to her. She didn't say a word, only watched Spot pace back and forth, trying to gather what he was going to say to form sentences.

Finally, he spoke. "She became of us -a newsie- 'bout two yeahs back," he began. "Jacky-boy was out sellin' his papes, and he came along her wandarin' around. Well he figa's dat she's a pretty thing -ya could be her sista, I sweah- so he toins on da cham. He asks her ta buy a pape, but she says no. He asks her again an' she says dat she don't got any money ta pay him wit. Sos, bein da God-damned curious guy dat he is, he asks her why she can't. She tells him dat she ain't got no dough coz her faddah got hoit in some factory job an' he can't woik no more, an' at dat moment, she was lookin' foah a job." He paused for a second and looked to Rookie, as if he was checking that she was still paying attention. He looked away, began to pace, and continued Song's story.

"Sos Jack-y boy asks her foah her name an' she tells 'em dat it's Katarina. Sos Jack-y asks her if she knew anythin bout da newsies. She tells him dat she didn't, and sos he asks her if he was eva intarested in da job. Well she asks how much it pays, an' he agreed ta tell her all 'bout it ova lunch. Sos they go ta Tibby's an' tawk 'bout it foah a while, an' by da time dat dey leave, Manhattan's got a new newsie." He paused as Rookie let out a harsh cough, and looked to watched her clear her throat.

"Sos Jack-y boy starts teachin' her da ropes, just like he's teachin' chyou," Spot explained. "An' she was a fast loina', an' a real good newsie ta boot. Hahdly anyone who comes inta bein' a newsie like dat becomes a good one. But she's was good, she was real good. Cowboy said it was coz she had extry drive or sumthin', coz she had ta support her whole family an' all dat. But havin' a drive ain't da only thing dat makes ya a good newsie. Ya gotta be smart, and wit her edgy-cation, she was a smart thing, real smart…" he drifted off into what seemed to be a memory, apparently forgetting that he had been in the middle of a story. Rookie coughed and cleared her throat to bring him back to present time.

"Anyway," Spot said edgily, not enjoying being brought away from his memories of Song. "Da two start ta get close, real close. And soon, Song was Jacky-boy's goil. Dey were quite da pair, a lotta like. Dreamahs, da both of 'em. Quick-witted an' a sarcastic tongue dat'd annoy da hell outta anyone if dey woint in da mood foah it." Rookie smiled and tried to create Song in her mind, give her some of her own physical features and a sarcastic attitude to match Jack's. What a pair indeed.

"Sos Cowboy brings her ova ta Brooklyn one day when we got one of our meetins," Spot said, bringing Rookie out of her imagination. "Ta tell ya da trufe, I didn't trust her one bit when I foist met her. Ta me, she was a scabba. Lived in da comfoit of some apahtment wit a muddah and faddah whiles we real newsies was out on da streets every day, hopin' we's could get enough money ta eat dat night and den be able to pay da lodgin' house's rent sos we could have a roof ova our heads foah da month." He began to kick the snow as he walked.

"An' even now, I dunno how, but Song grew on me," he said quietly. "She had ta stay in Brooklyn foah a few hours one day, and Cowboy left her wit me, figyahin' since we didn't like each uddah too much dat dere was no harm in it. But durin' dat day, I realized dat she wasn't no scabba. She was smart, she knew how ta handle herself when she got inta a little bit a trouble, an' could talk anyone inta buyin' a pape." Spot sighed. "It was like she was poifect, I think I loved her…" Rookie didn't know if she was supposed to hear the comment, but since she did, she gulped.

"Chyou know dat when I want sumthin', I get it, yeah?" Spot asked her, and she nodded. "Well I wanted Song, an' I got her. Boy was Cowboy pissed off, but he got ova it pretty quick." He cleared his throat, which Rookie could hear tightening. "Sos a yeah goes by, an' it's just around dis time now. Song gets sick, goin' around and coughin up her insides every time she does. All da boys an' me told her ta go ta see a docta, but she wouldn't. She said dat she couldn't affoid it, an' dat she would be betta in a few days."

Spot took a shaky breath.

"Well 'betta in a few days' neva came," he continued slowly, his voice losing all emotion. "She got sick, real sick. One day when we was out sellin' papes -I was heah in Manhattan on business-, she said she had a headache and collapsed. Just like dat, on da street. She went all pale and wouldn't wake up. Sos Jack-y boy and I had ta carry her ta da hospital and call foah her folks. Da doctas said she had sumthin' called "broncholitis" or sumthin-"

"Bronchitis," Rookie corrected quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, dat," Spot said with a wave of his cane. "Well da docta said dat she had dat an' pneumonia. Sos dey give her dis medicince an' tell us dat she's gonna be all right." Rookie watched Spot play with the tip of the cane nervously in his hands. She knew what part came next.

"But dat fuckin' docta lied ta us," he said quietly, an edge sharpening his tone. "Two days lata she died, just like dat. She had a coughin' fit, went ta sleep and neva woke up. I loved her and she just went an' died on me, an da fuckin' docta didn't do a damn thing 'sides given her dat medicine dat didn't woik." Under his breath he repeated his own words, "Went ta sleep and neva work up. I loved her." Rookie put her hand over her mouth to prevent herself to choke and to help her stifle a cough. He looked to her when he heard a strangled cough emit her lips.

"Ya neva hoid of her because I told da guys dat if they eva said a woid 'bout her, I'd soak 'em," he explained, his tone shaking slightly. Rookie couldn't tell if it was out of sorrow or anger. "An' den chyou came along and I had ta repeat da warnin' ta Cowboy outsida Tibby's." Rookie felt slightly crestfallen. She had "come along", as he so eloquently put it. She knew he was upset, and knew that she couldn't show her emotion, even though his words had pinched her heart slightly.

"So?" he asked defensively, staring straight into her eyes. "I told ya. What do ya haveta say about it?" It was almost as if he was challenging her to say something, anything at all. Rookie understood, that story had to be one of the hardest he would ever tell in his life. Calmly, she picked up her bag and slid off the crates and stayed facing him, her expression soft and her body stance relaxed. She wouldn't give him any reason to become upset with her by the way she was standing or looking at him.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked quietly, gently. "Do you want me to be upset or angry with you? Do you think that after hearing that story I am going to be upset or angry? Because if you do, you're wrong. If you do, you don't know me. You lost someone that you cared about, that you loved. I know of how you feel, I-"

"No ya don't," Spot cut in rigidly.

"Yes, Spot, I do," Rookie said a little bit firmly. She hadn't interrupted him, and now it was his turn to listen. "Seven months ago my father was shot and killed as he passed by a Trolley Strike rally. An innocent pedestrian, killed. The only man who I had loved, even if it was just as a father. The only man that seemed to understand me, gone forever. But this isn't about me, it's about you. Yes, I know how you feel. But you should know that I wouldn't be upset at your story, I'd be inquisitive, which I am."

Spot raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "What are ya "inquisative" about?"

"You say you loved Song?" Rookie asked slowly. Spot nodded. "Okay then. You say that I could be her younger sister, correct?" Once again he nodded. "Then I want to ask you something, something very important, Spot."

"What?"

"Why did you save me that night a few weeks ago?" she asked calmly, though every inch of her body wanted to tense up and get defensive. "Was it because you didn't want an innocent girl take her life? Or was it because I looked like Song and you couldn't stand the sight of "Song" killing herself?" A blank stare was that all she returned. "Why did you become my friend? Why did you help me escape my fate in Brooklyn, as Brooklyn? Why did you kiss me? Are you confusing me for Song, wishing that I was Song?" Another blank stare.

"Okay, you don't know," Rookie said with a nod and a small smile despite her feeling of disappointment. "Does that bother me? No." She had to lie a little, for his sake. It didn't bother her that Spot had loved another girl, she hadn't even known him then, only _of _him. But it bothered her slightly that he didn't know if he was still in love with Song, or if he truly cared for Rookie.

"But for the sake of no one's but your own," she continued after coughing quickly. "You should find out." She walked passed him and started back for the lodging house. But she hardly made it a few steps before she stopped and turned around. "If you want to talk, I'll be upstairs in the sick room resting. Please, don't hesitate to come and bother me if you need to." She went to turn around again, but was stopped by a commanding "Wait," from Spot.

"Yes?" she asked him.

"Do any of da guys heah know bout yer faddah?" he asked. She shook her head slowly, as it was starting to throb more and more, and she was becoming a little light headed. She really need to rest, but if Spot was willing to talk, she would stay where she was. "Why?" he asked.

"It never came up," Rookie replied with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "And like you, I don't really like to talk about it." She coughed. "I'll be upstairs if you figure yourself out a little." He didn't stop her this time as she turned around and walked back into the Lodging House. The first person to confront her was Jack.

"What did he say?" he asked him.

"He told me everything," she replied quietly. "Please excuse me, I have to go take a nap."

She walked out of the room, passed the few surprised expressions on her fellow newsies faces, and up the stairs. Her feet were practically dragging along the floor by the time she reached the bunk room. She walked over to her bunk and took her box from under the mattress and brought it out with her. When she got to the sick room, her head felt like it was spinning. She closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed. She kicked her shoes off weakly and put her bag of medicine on the chair beside it. She then took the money she had earned today from her pocket and put it her box. She then slipped it under the mattress like she had done in the bunk room and then slid herself under the covers. Placing her head gently on her pillow, she was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

&

"Rookie," a soft voice whispered. Even in her groggy morning fog, she could tell that it was Mush's. "Rookie, c'mon, it's time ta wake up."

"Why?" Rookie moaned hoarsely. "Is the lodging house on fire?" She kept her eyes shut tightly and rolled over so her back was facing Mush's front.

"No, da lodgin' house ain't on fiya," Mush said with a laugh, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Now c'mon, get up. Do ya wanna miss breakfast?" Rookie rolled back over and sat up, rubbing her temples lightly. Her head hurt, and her throat felt tight, she really needed a drink of something. If she was correct, she still had two bottles of soda under her mattress. She would have to retrieve them when the newsies left.

"I'm not going to work today, Mush," she said, reaching over to the chair with her medicine on it. She took it out of the bag and poured some of the medicine into the cap. It was thick and dark green and smelled worse than low-tide out on a beach on Long Island.

"Why aren'tya goin' ta woik?" Mush asked. "Are ya feelin' woise or sumthin?" Rookie nodded as she tossed the medicine down her throat. It had such a fowl, vial taste that she shivered as it touched her taste buds.

"Ew," she mumbled, putting the cap back on the bottle and the bottle back in the bag. She then turned back to mush, her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed from the taste of the medicine. "Yes," she replied to his question, her voice scratchy and strained. "I'm feeling worse than before, and I need to stay here today and rest. Doctor's orders."

Mush nodded, but his voice still showed concern. "Are ya shoah?" he asked. "I mean, we's wantcha ta get betta an' all, but do ya got enough money ta not woik taday?" Rookie nodded again, as assuredly as she could with her headache.

"That's why I worked yesterday morning," she explained with a few coughs. "I knew my symptoms were getting worse, so I worked extra hard yesterday so I could stay back today. I promise I'll be fine."

"What about food?" Mush asked. She explained that she still had the bread from yesterday, and in all honesty that she wasn't very hungry. He agreed to the terms and told her to get as much sleep as she needed before he left the room. She sighed contentedly and lay back down, slipping back under the covers. She was nearly back in slumber-land when she heard someone enter the room. Opening her eyes, she saw that Spot had entered.

"G'morning," she said groggily as she sat up. "Before you say anything about me getting up, and that it's time for work, I just want to let you know that I'm not going." With that, she let herself slide back down onto her back.

"I know," Spot replied. "Mush told us not ta botha ya." _Then why are you here?_ Rookie asked Spot in her mind. "But I just wanted ta tell ya dat ya betta stay in dat bed all day. If I found out dat ya didn't, I'll tie ya ta da be tomorra." Rookie closed her eyes and rolled them. _Spot's feeling a little bit protective today. Though he has the right, after what happened to Song._

"I'll stay right here in this bed all day, Spot," she replied, her eyes still closed. "I promise."

"Good," she heard him say, he sounded rather proud of himself. He started to walk towards the door, she could hear his shoes on the wood flooring. But, he stopped. "I gotta tawk ta ya afta woik, okay?" She nodded in reply, trying to keep a straight face although she was slightly excited that Spot had come to his senses and wanted to talk to her. "Stay in dat bed," were his last commanding words before he left the room, closing the door behind him. Thirst forgotten, Rookie rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. In mere moments, she was once again in slumber.

&

Rookie woke up around noon. Her throat and mouth were so dry she couldn't speak, and when she coughed her throat felt as if it had been lit aflame. She stumbled out of the bed wearily, rubbing her throat in an attempt to sooth it. She walked slowly into the bunk room; she was dizzy and was trying hard not to trip over her own feet.

She made her way over to her bunk and lifted her mattress. Grabbing her soda bottles, she then turned around and shuffles back to the sick room. She used the edge of the bed frame as a bottle opener and took a large gulp. She let out a relieved sigh as her throat was soothed by the sweet liquid. She practically fell back onto her bed, leaning against the wall.

She wished she had a book to read or a journal to write in. Sitting around, ill with bronchitis already bored her, and she had only been conscious for five minutes or so of the day. She hoped that she felt healthy enough to work the next day. Sure, she liked being able to sleep in, but staying alone in the lodging house with not a soul to talk to bothered her.

_I wonder what happened to Dorothy, _she thought with a sigh. She never had finished The Wizard of Oz,, and found herself wondering if the Kansas country-girl had ever found her way back home to Auntie Em.

_I would have stayed in Oz,_ she added in her thoughts. _And stayed with Scarecrow and Lion and the Tin Woodsman. _Why would Dorothy want to return to the normal world? Why wouldn't she want to stay in the land of the Munchkins, the Winkies and the Emerald City?

**But Dorothy left because she had someone to go back to**_,_ the contradicting voice in her head told her. Rookie huffed and took a sip of soda. If she was transported to Oz, would she want to leave? Would she follow a yellow brick road to find some Wizard to get back to New York? Would she have someone to come back to? Would anyone notice or care that she left? Her thoughts roamed to Spot, but she wasn't sure about him. Sure, she had told him that she trusted him, and on that night she did. But did she really? She wasn't sure, as she wasn't sure that he either trusted her or truly cared for her or if he thought of her as merely his property. There had to be someway to find out.

She nestled under the bed covers after taking one last sip of soda and mulled over the thought of finding if Spot truly cared for her. Especially since she found out about Song, and how Song could've been her sister in appearance, she wasn't sure if the King of Brooklyn truly cared about her

As she closed her eyes, she had quite a time of peaceful sleep before being whirl-winded into a world that was not her own.

_**-Dream Sequence-**_

_**Rookie woke with a start as a clap of lightening flashed through the windows. She jumped out of bed, finding herself not feeling sick in the least. Yet she was alone in the sick room, everything as she had left it before she had fell back asleep. She ran over to the open window where a flood of rain had been pouring in. The wall of water was so thick, she couldn't see five feet in front of her. She was soaked before she even reached up to bring the window down, and before she did, she heard a sound.**_

_**Barking, to be correct. A high-pitched, familiar bark. "Rose!" she called out the window, and the barking ensued. Quickly she shut the window and sprinted down the stairs, calling for help. No one was around, so she figured the guys were still out selling papers. **_I hope they're all right, **_she thought to herself as she flung herself out the front door and into the storm. _**

_**Instead of her shoes hitting mud from the dirt street, they hit stone, and she was became immediately nervous. The street outside the lodging house was dirt, not what sounded to be some sort of cobblestone or brick. She turned around and saw that she was not in front of the lodging house, but in front of her old house from Brooklyn. Startled, she quickly ran from it in fear of being seen. She ran in the direction of the barking.**_

_**She ran and ran, not knowing where she was going. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face, and all she could hear was the rain hitting the ground and Rose's barking. Her soon made the transition to grass, she must have ran all the way to the park. It was becoming hard to run now, as her skirts were beginning to hold her down. **_

_**Her skirts? **_

_**She stopped and looked at her attire. No longer was she wearing her newsie outfit, but a yellow-checked dress with high white stockings and yellow shoes. Her hair had grown down to her waist, and was tied in two low pigtails. She squealed in fright and kept running, unknowing how she became such a way.**_

_**At last she found little Rose nestled under a tree. Rookie ran to her and scooped the little terrier up in her arms. "Come on, little one," she cooed, her voice shaking and her teeth clattering. "Let's go back to the lodging house." She turned to start her way back, but found that it was night, and she visibility had become impossible. Sighing, she walked under the tree and lay down beneath it, falling asleep with little Rose in her arms.**_

_**The warmth of the sun awoke Rookie as soon as she had closed her eyes. Rose lay asleep on her lap, her little brown coat contrasting the bright yellow checks. Rookie picked her dog up and stood up, trying to get a glance at where she was. **_

_**She was not in New York anymore. She was in the middle of a forest of full of apple trees. About a hundred steps away, something yellow glittered in the sunlight that managed to peak through the treetops. "No," she whispered in slight disbelief, instantly walking forward.**_

"'_**ey!" one of the trees stuck out a branch and entangled her. Rose barked excitedly, wriggling in her arms. "Whata pretty lady chyou are." It spoke with a rough New York accent. "Would a pretty lady like yerself like ta buy an apple?" He held out a shiny red apple.**_

"_**Well I am hungry," Rookie said to the tree, her stomach growling as if on command. "But I haven't got any money."**_

"_**No money?" the tree said, flabbergasted at the thought, if trees could think. "No money?!" It whipped her out of its branches and began throwing premature apples at her. "Get outta my forest, ya scabba!" Quickly Rookie ran towards the yellow streak, attempting to dodge the apples being thrown at her, and trying to protect Rose from being hit.**_

_**She found herself running on the Yellow Brick Road, and wondering how she had stumbled into Oz. It was preposterous, she had only been thinking of going to Oz and now here she was. Was she dreaming?**_

_**She slowed to a walk when well out of the apple forest and began her walk. Not a hundred yards from the end of the forest was the Emerald City, glowing in all it's glory.**_

_**But wait, this wasn't right. The Emerald City came after the forest that Dorothy, Scarecrow and the Tin Man had met the Cowardly Lion. And then there was a field of poppy flowers that if you smelled you would fall into an ever-lasting sleep. But she didn't question the irrelevance from this Oz to the Oz she had read about, and just continued down the road.**_

"_**Exr-y extr-y!" she heard someone call. She turned to her left to see Specs calling out a headline, waving the paper over his head. "Da Wiz cures a Munchkin wit a deadly disease! What a lifesava, whata guy!" She tried calling out to him, but it was like he couldn't hear her. So she continued on, towards the Emerald City.**_

_**And then she was inside the Emerald City all at once, unaware of how she had gotten there. She wasn't wearing her spectacles, and yet she wasn't being blinded by the spectacular glowing of the Emerald City. As she walked around, newsies surrounded, her, calling out the headline. She recognized Jack, Kid Blink, Falcon, Echo, Mush, Racetrack and Itey. There were other newsies also, but they were all crowded around a large thrown.**_

_**She walked toward the thrown curiously, trying to get a glance at who sat upon. When she got close enough, she realized that it was Spot who sitting on the thrown. She couldn't get close enough to see him, but the newsies surrounding him chanted "King Spot, King Spot, King Spot".**_

_**When Rose barked, the newsies turned around. "Song has returned!" they all chorused. She tried to protest, but suddenly she was being pushed towards the front of the crowd. Viper grabbed her wrist and brought her up to the thrown, sitting her next to Spot. Spot stared at her inquisitively.**_

"_**Spot," Rookie said quickly. "I'm not Song, Spot, I'm Rookie. Remember me, Rookie? Brooklyn Pulitzer, remember?" At the sounding of her last name, all of the newsies turned around and hissed. **_

"_**Are ya feelin' okay Song?" Spot asked. "Callin' yerself Rookie. Rookie's not chyou, Song, and she neva will be. You are my queen, da Queen of Oz." Rookie shook her head, trying to protest. **_

"_**Rookie's ova dere," he said, pointing away from the crowd. "And if she's ova dere, how couldya be her, Song? I tink ya need to lay down." Rookie turned to where Spot had pointed. And sure enough, there she was in her newsie outfit, hawking the headlines.**_

_**Suddenly, something swooped down and grabbed the Rookie that was selling the newspapers. The Wicked Witch -- no, it wasn't the Wicked Witch, it was Mary Ann Pulitzer. Mary Ann swooped down and grabbed Rookie by the suspenders, pulling her up onto her flying broom. The newsie Rookie began to scream, and the Rookie everyone was calling Song stood up to watch.**_

_**No one had even turned when the newsie-Rookie screamed, sending the real Rookie into a near-panic attack. "Save her!" she screamed, pointing to her other self, whom was being pulled away by Mary Ann. Everyone turned and then laughed when they saw who she had been pointing to. "Save her, please! Save me! Save me! Save me!" **_

_**Suddenly, the entire lot of newsies began to chant her name over her screams of terror. "Rookie. Rookie. Rookie! Rookie?!" they chanted…**_

_**-End Dream Sequence-**_

Someone was shaking her, someone was urging her to wake up. Her eyes shot open and her arms flew up to push whoever had been shaking her so roughly off of her. "Rookie! Rookie! Would ya stop movin'? Yer awake." Spot growled at her, his blue eyes meeting her. Though his tone had been harsh, his eyes were soft, telling her that everything was okay.

"Spot," she whispered, relaxing her body immediately.

"Who else?" he asked her, letting go of her shoulders. "What da hell was dat?"

"What was what?" she asked, panting slightly. She was in a cold sweat, and had to push off her blanket to become comfortable again. She grabbed her soda and began to take small sips at a very fast pace.

"What was all dat yellin' about?" another voice asked. She looked over to see Jack on the other side of her. He looked over her quickly, as if checking to make sure all her limbs were still attached to her body. "We came in da lodgin' house and we's heah ya screamin'. So we's come up heah ta find ya asleep."

"I was having a bit of a nightmare," Rookie said quietly, clearing her throat of a cough. "A very complicated, twisted nightmare. You were there, Jack, and so was Spot, and Racetrack and-" she coughed "-Kid Blink and Echo and Viper and I was there too, because I was Song and the real me was being taken away by my mother and-" the look on Spot's face was enough to get her to silence herself without a verbal command. She had forgotten her promise to him to never say Song's name again. Even though she was telling them about her nightmare, she had still mentioned her in some form.

Jack looked from Spot to Rookie suspiciously. "What's da matta wit chyou guys?" he asked, mostly looking at Spot. "Do ya need a minute alone or sumethin?"

Spot looked like he was going to say no, so Rookie quickly cut in. "Yes, Jack," she said with a cough, turning her head to Spot. "Yes, we do." Jack nodded and left the room.

"You wanted to talk to me after work, Spot," Rookie said quietly, another cough escaping her lips. She looked to the window to see that it was indeed well into the night and grabbed her medicine bottle. Taking a quick dose of it, she then gulped down her soda and looked to Spot.

"Yeah," he said. "I did. He moved her medicine and soda from the chair to the floor and sat down on it.

"Look, Rookie," he began. "I'm leavin' foah Brooklyn da day afta tomorra," he said. "An' I want ta teach ya some things befoah I go. I don't wanna leave ya heah with no one ta look out fer chyou but yer un-taught self." Rookie cocked her head to the side in slight confusion. "Yer gonna be woikin' on yer own soon, an' ya gotta know how ta take care of yerself. Ya gotta loin how ta use dat slingshot I gave ya and ya gotta know how ta fight."

"Fight?" Rookie asked, a shiver of nervousness running over her words.

"Yeah, street-fight," Spot replied. "Befoah da day comes when ya come ta Brooklyn, ya gotta loin how ta fight and how ta shoot a slingshot good." Rookie nodded.

"If yer feelin' okay tamarra afta woik, den I's gonna teach ya den," he told her. "But if ya not, den we'll wait till da day I leave. We's only gonna sell papes in da mornin and den we'll come back heah an I'll teach ya. I ain't leavin' till da night, sos we got plenty of time." Rookie nodded. There was an awkward silence between them, so Spot got up, put her medicine and soda bottles on the chair and then made his way towards the door.

"Spot," her voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned around.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Did you think about what I said yesterday?" she asked him. Her tone was soft and gentle, she didn't want to agitate him. He turned his back to her and started out the door.

"Yeah, I did," he admitted. He walked back over and looked down at her. "I thought a lot about it. An' ya gotta promise me somethin', Rookie." Rookie nodded.

"Anything," she replied quietly, fussing with the blankets.

"Ya gotta promise ta take cah of yerself," he told her. "Ya gotta promise dat chyou'll neva, ya know, go like _she_ did."

"Spot," Rookie said softly, but he stopped her.

"Don't 'Spot' me," he said sternly. "Tell me, promise me dat chyou won't do anythin stupid."

"I promise," she whispered. "Spot, please, why don't you just-"

"Go ta sleep," were the three words he used to cut her off. He turned around, and without a second glance left the room, closing the door behind him. Rookie sighed in a defeated tone and brought the covers over her body and snuggled into her pillow. His absence of a true answer stung her, but she tried to let it go. She was only able to empathize to a certain extent with Spot, as she never knew the love that he had felt for Song. And she would have to deal with not knowing until Spot was ready to talk about it, if he ever was ready to talk about it.

She wish that she could just knock on his head, say "Hello in there?" and get the response to all her answers, or at least clues to them. Even if she didn't like what she heard, she would feel better having heard it then having to wait for it and expect the worst.

It was like standing on the edge of cliff blindfolded, not knowing to take a step forward or backwards. Should she press him for answers or should she back off? And how could she know that he cared about _Rookie _and not _Song_? Kisses could not tell how someone truly feel. People gave and stole kisses everyday, all over the world. And Rookie had heard of Spot's reputation with women. She had hoped that she was different, but now, she wasn't so sure…

-

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**Author's Note:**** Sorry this chapter took a little longer to produce, it took longer to write than I had originally thought. I know I used some pretty sketchy words translated into newsie-ish, and if you need the translations just put it in your review and I'll put them up on my pro page.**

**Please review if you liked it!**

**xEques**

**  
P.S Thanks to dance4him, Seren McGowan, Fragrant Princess, chacotan and Kathryn-Manson Sykes for reviewing my last chapter, I love hearing from you guys.**

**P.S.S. I don't know when chapter thirteen will be out. I have new ideas swimming around in my head, blending with old ones, and I just need to straighten them out before I can start the next chapter. Please be patient, it will not take forever!**


	13. Can't You See Me?

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Thirteen: Can't You See Me?**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own the plot and my characters._

_-_

_-_

Rookie woke up with a start, shivering in a cold sweat. She looked around, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. _I'm still here,_ she thought to herself in relief. To make sure, she got out of bed with an un-balanced step, rubbing her temples gently. Her head ached, and making the trip to the window was a long stretch for her. But she made it and she looked out. They were still in New York, and most of the newsies were just leaving for work, she could hear some of them still talking below her. Yawning, she stumbled back over to her bed and grabbed her medicine. After taking a swig of it, she placed it down and then practically fell into her bed.

She would attempt to get as much sleep as she could today so that later, Spot could show her a bit of slingshot or fighting. She wanted to learn before he left, not to mention the alone time they would have. The more time they spent together, the easier it would be for Rookie to coax some sort of stable answer from him.

She had grown jealous of Song during the night. Her nightmare had brought her back to Brooklyn, back into the arms of Cal. And as she walked down the street with her forcibly betrothed, Spot and Song -her personal image of Song- walked around them in circles. Spot kept talking about how "poifect" Song was, "poifect in neahly every way". And then Song proceeded to show off her skills. And when Rookie tried to perform , she was pulled back by Cal, and Spot would laugh cruelly.

So in a way, Rookie wanted to prove herself against Song. It seemed superfluous when even she thought about it, to set standards for herself against a dead girl, but it didn't stop her mind from twisting her thoughts and having them relate to Song. At first, Rookie hadn't even thought twice about Spot being in love with Song, why should she have been? It's not like Rookie had actually known Spot as other than a local newsboy when this ordeal happened, so she felt no reason to be jealous. But when Spot spoke about her so passionately, she was affected. With the tone he had used to describe her, it was hard not to be.

Spot had said that Song knew how to take care of herself, which meant she knew how to fight. But she wasn't a Brooklyn newsie, so she probably didn't have a slingshot. Well, Rookie still felt like she had to perform better than Song ever would have.

This sudden competitive drive scared her a little bit. She had never held such a desire to prove herself better to anyone else, but she supposed it was caused by her slight infatuation with Spot. She wanted to prove that she was the better girl, that he had to stop thinking about Song and see Rookie for who she really was, not who she happened to look like.

She settled back under the covers uneasily, her mind still wandering upon Song. Maybe she could get a second opinion from Jack. Maybe he would give her a different opinion on Song, one that would sooth her competitive drive to prove herself against the dead girl. Sighing, she fell into a fitful sleep.

_**&**_

She woke up around four-thirty in the afternoon, and already the sun was setting. Oh how Rookie hated winter days. Despite her birthday --which no longer served a purpose--, winter months were her most hated. Sure, she liked snow, but she much preferred the sun. She would rather be extra warm than extra cold.

As Rookie stood up, she realized how much better she felt already. Her head had stopped aching, and the pressure in her chest had lessened considerably. She smiled to herself and went to the washroom. She brushed her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. She slipped her hat over her head for what little warmth it provided, almost covering all of her hair.

She grimaced as her stomach let out a long growl. She realized that she had not eaten for two days now, and her body was voicing its opinion. She fished into her pocket and found the bread, but it was almost as hard as a stone. In slight frustration, she threw it out a window. Hopefully, a bird with a very strong beak would be able to pick it up and eat it.

She sighed and walked back into the sick room. There was a little soda left in one of the bottles, she had gulped down most of it during the night. Her temperature had been fluctuating all throughout it, and constantly woke her up. One minute it was normal, the next minute it skyrocketed and she was shivering in white-hot sweat. She would take a sip of soda and then try and go back to sleep. That had reoccurred only a few times that night, but with each time Rookie would take more soda, not realizing at the time that her ration was dwindling.

Sighing, she took the last gulp of her soda and then rolled the bottle into the corner. It clanked against the other one that had already taken up its place there, but Rookie hardly took notice of the sound. She was lost in thought, wondering what time it was, and when the newsies would be back. She took out her little box and checked how much money she had in it. Only fifty cents, and she needed thirty to pay Kloppman for this month's housing, and that money was due today. The other forty cents she would need to buy papers to sell the next day.

Rookie took the money out and walked down the stairs, still needed to take large breaths to walk only a small distance. She went to Kloppman's desk and chatted with him a bit before giving him the housing money. He accepted it with a smile and they chatted for a little while longer.

It really was a one-sided conversation. He asked her how she was fairing, she replied "I've been better,". He asked her when the doctor thought she would be better and she replied "In a couple of weeks, he guesses,". In all truth, she was too focused on her growling stomach to truly be a part of their two-part conversation. In the end, she wound up excusing herself so that she could go outside for "fresh air".

All she needed to find was two lonesome pennies lying around. That would be enough to get her a small plate of roast beef at Tibby's. If she got lucky and found a nickel, she could add a soda to her order.

All the while she looked around their little alleyway, she zoned off into her own little world. She didn't notice a very slick someone sneak up on her until she heard their footsteps not a few feet away. She stiffened up, but went about pretending to still be looking about the floor. She heard the person breathing, they were right behind her.

Quickly she turned around, putting her clenched fists in front of her face so she could attempt to hit whoever was behind her in the face. She gasped as her wrists were grabbed and she was pulled close to her attacker's body. She struggled and pulled back, looking up to her attacker that hadn't the valor to attack her from the front. What lay on his lips was nothing short of the most arrogant smirk she had ever seen.

"Wouldja stop yer strugglin?" Spot asked, catching her eyes. "Who didja think dat I was? Da Delancy Bruddahs?"

"Who?" Rookie questioned with a raise of her eyebrow.

"Nevah mind," Spot said with a wave of his hand. "Dere in jail now, sos dey don't matta." Rookie relaxed and then noticed that Spot was still holding onto her wrists, causing her cheeks to redden. He seemed to read the embarrassment in her eyes and let go of her wrists.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, turning away and continuing her search for pennies. "Aren't you supposed to be out selling papes? It's only five o' clock."

"Aren't chyou _supposed_ ta be in bed restin'?" he asked her. "'Stead of heah in da street obsoivin' da ground?"

"Who are you to tell me what I should be doing?" Rookie challenged with a smirk as she turned around. She was joking, of course, but the look on Spot's face told her that he had thought she was serious. She sighed and shook her head, coughing lightly. "You need to relax, Spot, I was joking." She spoke gently, but in a serious tone.

"I'm feeling better," she continued with only a slight cough. She decided to ignore his lack-of-answer to her question and change the subject. "I was wondering if you could teach me some fighting or do some work with me and my slingshot?" She bit her lip in slight nervousness. It was awkward to talk to him now, even though she tried to make it as casual as possible.

"Shoah," Spot said with a slight inclination of his head. "Go get yer slingshot, we'll do dat foist while da light is still good." Rookie nodded and instantly complied, walking at the fastest pace her still aching head would allow her to travel at.

She returned to the alley five minutes from leaving, as the trek up and down the stairs had been the hardest to overcome. Her chest, though pressure had been lifted from it, still caused her trouble as she went up and down at a incline. The more she worked, the more pressure built up. Though, after taking a moment to stop at the bottom of the stairs, the pressure lifted itself, allowing Rookie to continue her walk up to Spot. He had set up a series of bottles and cans on different boxes, which varied in height. Target practice.

"Took ya long enough," Spot stated as he heard her come up behind him. His voice sounded edged, flaring up Rookie's anger immediately.

"Well I'm sorry for having bronchitis," she snapped in reply, clutching her slingshot tightly. If he was going to be a jerk right back to him. He turned around, flashing her a smirk that told her he had been joking.

"Ya gotta relax, Rookie," he said with a cocky grin. "I was jokin'." Rookie rolled her eyes, looking towards the dull blue sky. But she couldn't resist showing a shy smile. That had been the first time Spot had smiled at her since their discussion of Song, even if it was just a grin. "C'mon, ya gotta loin how ta use dat thing." He motioned to the sling shot in her hand.

He walked directly in front of one of the targets and she followed. The target was shoulder-height with Rookie, and she figured it would be an easy target to start out with.

"Okay," he said, once she was in front of it. "Have ya eva shot a slingshot before ya became a newsie?" Rookie shook her head.

"I took archery lessons, though," she offered. "And from seeing you shoot your slingshot, I can see similarities between the two."

"Okay den," Spot replied. "Dat's betta den nothin'. Now jus' show me how ya would shoot if I didn't tell ya how, if dis was yer archery."

"But you've seen me shoot," Rookie protested.

"When?" Spot asked quickly.

"The other day, before New Years," she elaborated. "I was out here practicing and you shot my bottle and broke it." Spot smiled to himself proudly.

"Yeah, dat was a good shot," he said to himself, thinking of how perfect the bottle had been destroyed, how the pieces of glass just fell around the box. But he brought himself back to the lesson. "But I forgot how I saw yer form. Now show me how ya would shoot."

Rookie sighed, but complied with Spot's wishes. She turned her body towards him, but turned her head to the target. She brought her slingshot up, loading it with a pebble Spot had held out for her. She fully extended the arm holding the slingshot, and brought the 'sling' part of the slingshot back to her lips, as she wood anchor her shot with her lips in archery.

"Shoot," Spot told her, though he knew she would not hit the target. Rookie released her grip on the sling and let the pebble fly it curved and wound up hitting the wall next to the box, about two feet under where the bottle would have been. She blushed slightly in embarrassment, while Spot just chuckled.

"Now I's gonna show ya da right way," he told her. "Foist off, ya don't have to toin yer whole body like dat." He took her waist and turned her so that her body was only at a slight angle. His touch sent hot shivers up her spine, reminding Rookie of when Spot had found out about her engagement. "Den, yer gonna raise yer arms ta weah da target is." He took her arms -Rookie shivered, and hoped Spot thought it was from the cold- and raised them to her shoulder level.

"Now, ya gotta put da marble in an' pull back," he explained. "But not all da way back ta yer lips, dat's way too far. Yer neva gonna know weah da marble is gonna go, an ya gonna wind up breakin' yer slingshot." Rookie nodded, letting him guide her hand back to her cheek. She was sure she was blushing madly, as Spot took a good look at her face and smirked. He knew what a simple touch did to her.

"Okay good," Spot said. "Now ya gotta close one eye sos ya can see betta." Though it sounded like an odd concept, Rookie closed one eye and aimed the slingshot. She didn't realize how close the two had gotten, so when he said, "Now shoot," in a gentle whisper in her ear, her hand twitched and she let go of the sling. The marble landed on the box, inches underneath the bottle.

"Dat was good," Spot said, taking a step away. "Now leave us try it annuda time an' see if chyou can hit da target dis time." Rookie took aim like she had before, and waited for Spot to tell her to shoot the marble. This time, the marble hit the neck of the bottle and the glass shattered.

"I did it," Rookie said enthusiastically, coughing a bit. She wore a large smile that beamed her pride.

"Dat was pretty good," Spot admitted. "Now leave us go onta da harda targets."

**&**

"What da hell are ya doin'?" Spot snapped at Rookie. He was pacing around her, and pointing out every little mistake that she made. For the past twenty minutes, they had been on the same target. It was a tin can on the top of a box that was about three feet above their heads. Spot was making Rookie nervous, which was throwing what little accuracy she possessed completely out of the water.

"I'm trying to shoot this ridiculous marble out of this ridiculous slingshot!" Rookie snapped in reply. She was becoming frustrated with herself that she couldn't hit the stupid target, and Spot snapping at her didn't help at her all.

"Why can'tcha jus' hit da damn can?" he asked her, his tone tight with a sharp edge. "Song neva had a problem wit shootin'." Rookie, who had been focusing on aiming, dropped her slingshot and turned to Spot. Her green eyes flashed as she glared at him.

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously. "Did you really compare me to Song?" Spot stiffened, raising his chin a little higher. She took a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as she possibly could. As she stared at him, she tried to remember that Spot had loved Song and she knew how it felt to lose someone she loved.

"Spot," she said, taking a shaky breath. She stared into his eyes, trying to use the same force he used on her to keep eye contact. "You have to realize, _I am not Song,_ and you have to realize that right now. I am _Rookie,_ not Song. Rookie, _not_ Song." She realized that she was breaking her promise of never saying Song's name again, but at the moment that was the last thing she was thinking about.

"I will say this one more time," she said shakily, taking a step towards him. "_I am not Song._ You _will_ stop comparing me to her, or even thinking of me as her." She took another shaky breath before she took another step towards him, staring straight into his eyes.

"Song is dead, Spot," she said quietly. "She is _dead_ and _never coming back_. I am not Song, nor will I ever be." Spot gripped her wrists and told her to shut up, but she didn't. "Song is dead," she whispered. "She is DEAD." Spot pushed her away.

"Get da hell away from me," he snapped venomously.

"Gladly," Rookie replied, moving past him. Safely three feet away, she added. "Song is dead, and you better realize that soon, Spot. She is _never coming back._ Before Spot had a chance to say anything, or even turn around, she walked away. Her head was pounding, and she felt the pressure in her chest was building up again. So she figured a walk around the block and then back into the sick room she would go.

A quick movement ahead of her caught her eye and she saw a big brown dog running towards her. A leash was trailing behind it, and Rookie realized that the dog had gotten away from her owner. In one quick movement, she stepped on the dog's trailing leash as it passed. She grabbed the leash and pulled back. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen that Spot had followed her. But she ignored him and focused on the dog.

"Hey," she said to the dog in a commanding tone. She pulled the dog over to and let him sniff her hand. He licked it gently and she was able to scratch him behind his floppy ears. "There's a good boy, pretty boy." She crooned to the large dog, kneeling down. Looking him over, she knew he belonged to someone with money. His coat was clean an had not one tick, his friendly disposition led her to believe he had grown up in the lap of luxury with humans. She looked around, waiting for someone to running after the dog.

The dog licked her cheek and she laughed, rubbing the dog's back. A shout got her attention and she stood up. Running -well waddling- towards her. She was a portly woman, and she was panting heavily.

"Charlie!" she called, and the dog perked his ears and wagged his long tail. Rookie sighed and handed the leash out to the woman. She snatched it up and started walking away.

Already in a bad mood, Rookie hissed, "Well you're welcome." The woman turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, young lady?" she snapped, looking Rookie over.

"Nothing," Rookie replied edgily. "I was just telling you 'you're welcome' for saving your dog's life." She looked to the dog and smiled. "Bye pup." As she stormed past, she rubbed his ears quickly and then cut down an alley that would lead her right to the Lodging House.

When she got to the Lodging House, she walked past the arriving newsies and up to the sick room. She sat down on her bed and took her medicine quickly. With nothing to wash it down with, the taste remained on her tongue.

Spot came in without knocking, while Rookie was staring out into space. When he sat down on the bed, she almost fell off of it. He stared at her with hard eyes, demanding an explanation for her behavior within their stormy depths. Her own expression remained blank.

"I want a dog," she told him plainly, sliding off her bed and walking out of the sick room, leaving Spot to himself.

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**Author's Note:**** I know, this was a really short chapter with a bit of cliché line to it, I'm sorry. Chapter Fourteen will be a little on the shorter also, but chapter fifteen and sixteen will be better. Just as a heads-up, I'm planning on cutting it off at seventeen chapters, but I'm not really sure. I'm also planning on making a sequel, so please don't eat me.**

**XEques**

**P.S Thanks to Seren McGowan, Kathryn Mason-Sykes and Dimonah Tralon for review chapter twelve.**


	14. How Do You Sleep?

-1Hear the Belles in Brooklyn

**Chapter Fourteen:: How Do You Sleep?**

_Disclaimer: I own what I own, and that is all I own. I do not own Newsies._

_-_

"Mush?" Rookie mumbled weakly as she found herself being lifted from one of the bunks. "Mush, what are you doing?"

"I'm takin' ya back to da sick room," he replied as he carried her in his arms. "Chyou fell asleep while we was playin cards. And no offence ta chyou, but Blink don't feel like sharin' his bed. " Rookie nodded as best she could and felt herself being placed down on a soft bed. She slid herself under the covers and thanked Mush for taking her back.

"Don't forget to wake me up tomorrow for work, she reminded him," Rookie told him. "I don't think that my body's going to accept getting up that early after being off for two days."

"I will, no problem Rookie," Mush replied. "G'night." Rookie returned the 'G'night' and then rolled over on her side, and closed her eyes. But instead of the usual warm blackness that came, two eyes froze the warmth, and she saw them as clearly as she had been when she had glared into them earlier that day. Blue eyes, with just a hint of gray. A calm beach, just before the storm.

And suddenly she was awake. Her eyes burst open and she looked about wildly. She could have sworn that she was looking right into Spot's eyes. But alas, it had only been an picture that had been permanently framed in her mind. She sat up and grabbed her medicine as she coughed. Her head was starting to throb again, and she didn't need a relapse. This time she would have no money for medicine or medical treatment.

Rookie walked over to the window and stared out. Her feet were cold, but she was so transfixed by the view, she did not care. She was so divulged in her thoughts that she couldn't feel anything, she was numb.

She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and moved her eyes to the floor, staring at her feet. Why was it that all of a sudden she couldn't sleep? Just because she had saw Spot's eyes? _I've seen them plenty of times when I'm awake,_ she thought to herself. _They're only his eyes._

**But they're the eyes you once thought you would miss, **the contradicting side of her brain pointed out. **Remember, when you were engaged to Cal?**

Rookie sighed. She remembered, remembered it clearly. She looked around, and felt trapped, like her thoughts were contained to only this room. So quietly, she crept out of the small sickroom and into the little hallway. She stopped and listened carefully. In the near-silence, she could hear Spot, Racetrack and Jack talking in serious undertones in the bunkroom. She had to be as silent as a church mouse.

So on tippy-toe she shuffled, avoiding the locations of the loose boards. She thought she heard someone get up in the bunkroom, but after waiting half of a second figured she was losing her nerve and continued her way. She crept down the stairs and down snuck passed Kloppman, who had his back turned. She walked out the front door and sat down on the curb. She wouldn't venture farther than yelling's distance, not at night.

Rookie picked up a stone and hurled it against the opposite brick wall, which she couldn't even see in the darkness. The sound of glass breaking startled her, and caused raised voices upstairs. Quickly she stood up and backed against the wall, hoping that the boys could not see her.

"What da _hell_ was dat?" she heard Racetrack exclaim from up above.

"I dunno, let's go check it out," Jack said, and she heard his feet move away from the window.

"No," it was Spot's voice that spoke now. It was quiet, and she just grasped it. "I had cans an' bottles an' shit out befoah. Some stupid cat probably just knocked it ova or somethin'." There was something strange about his words. He didn't sound worried or anxious, but he didn't seem to trust her own words. Rookie bit her lip and waited to hear the window close before she resumed her original spot.

She closed her eyes and thought back to when she had met Spot with Cal. What an ordeal.

**-Flashback-**

"_Yes, she's a Pulitzer," Cal snapped. "Brooklyn Pulitzer. If I ever hear of you harassing her, God so help you. Come, Brooklyn, let's leave this filth."_

"_I'll show ya filth if ya don't shut that trap of yers," Spot said this with a mix of a hiss and a growl._

**-End Flashback-**

Now looking back on it, Rookie understood why Cal had been so protective of her, well, Brooklyn. Spot had quite the reputation when it came to teenaged girls, and he _had_ revolted against her uncle during the strike. She put herself in Cal's shoes. _If Spot had something against my uncle,_ she thought to herself. _What might have he had against me, a relative?_ Now why hadn't she seen that before?

_I must have been so caught up in the 'horrific possibility' of being infatuated with Spot -or hating Cal- that I didn't think of that reasoning. _Now seeing things from a different angle, she sort of felt bad for Cal. Sort of. Staying in Cal's shoes, she tried to imagine that he felt threatened by the newsie that seemed to command so much of his soon-to-be-fiancé's attention when he himself was a moderately-looking man with a lot of money.

Another sigh. Was it really that serious? Had her ordeal with Spot and living on the street for the past few weeks grown her up so that she was starting to feel bad for Cal? She shivered, not at the cold air, but at the thought. Rookie still held a deep hatred for that man, and her mother, but now that she saw things from their perspectives, she couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for them, and felt slightly upset at the way she had treated them.

Rookie picked up another stone and threw it. This time, though, she through it down the alleyway, not where the cans and bottles were. She didn't want the guys to have any reason to venture down here. Sure, they wouldn't scold her, but they would tell her to get her butt back in the Lodging House, and tell her that she shouldn't be out in the freezing cold because she was sick.

Sighing, she threw another rock down the alley. "OW!" someone -a female- exclaimed, sending Rookie to her feet in half of a second. She took a step to the right, steadying herself. Her head still throbbed, and she had become dizzy.

"Who's there?" Rookie called. No one responded, but in a second Echo was in front of her, a purple mark already forming on her forehead. "What the-" Rookie couldn't finish her sentence before she was thrown into the frozen dirt.

"What da hell was dat for?" Echo exclaimed, attempting to throw a punch at Rookie as she tried to stand up. Rookie just narrowly escaped it.

"What was what for?" Rookie practically squealed, dodging another punch.

"Ya looked me straight in da eyes an' den hoiled a rock at my face!" Echo replied, throwing a punch and hitting her target smack in the eye. Rookie fell backwards and hit the floor again, feeling like her head was going to explode.

"I didn't throw anything at you!" she said as she stumbled to her feet and made it for the Lodging House.

"Oh yeah?" Echo grabbed the fleeing Rookie by the suspenders and forced Rookie to face her. "Den how doya explain dis?" She pointed to her bruising forehead. "Did da rock magically fly outta yer hand an inta my skull?" Echo threw Rookie into a brick wall, sending pain shooting through Rookie.

"No," Rookie replied in a strained tone. "I didn't mean to throw it _at you. _I didn't even _see you_. I can hardly see you now!" She attempted to rub her back, but Echo had pinned her arms into the brick. Tears were falling down her cheeks from the pain, and Rookie was using all her might not to cough in Echo's face and make her angrier.

"Shoah, shoah, likely story," Echo snapped. Her voice dropped to a low, vehement tone. "Ya betta loin da ropes quick _Brooklyn, _ya stupid Pulitza_._ Spot's not always gonna be dere foah ya. 'Specially if ya keep goin' on like ya are now."

"What do you mean?" Rookie asked in a whisper, holding her coughs in with all her might.

"Dazzle an' me have seen da way Mush looks at chyou," she snapped. "An' den yer riskin' yer health out heah. I sweah ta God if dere is one, dat if you cause Spot da same trouble dat Song did, I'll make shoah you pay, I'll kill ya, I swe-"

"Not if I get ta chyou foist," Spot's voice stopped Echo mid sentence, and suddenly she was pulled back off of Rookie. Someone caught Rookie as she slid down the wall, but it wasn't Spot. Rookie heard Spot practically snarling at Echo for attacking one of Jack's newsies in the dark.

"You O.K dere, Rook?" It was Racetrack. She nodded her head feebly, letting out the all the coughs that she had been holding down when she was face-to-face with Echo.

"I'm fine," she tried to say convincingly. "What the hell is Echo's problem?"

"Yeah, ya look great, kid," Racetrack said sarcastically. Rookie saw the silhouette of his head turn to look to where Echo and Spot were. She could hear that Jack had entered the conversation. "She's got a lotta problems when it comes ta goils and Spot. We all tink she's sweet on da guy, but she won't admit it if her life was on da line. Can ya stand up at all, Rook?" He quickly changed the subject, not giving Rookie any time to reply to his first statement.

"Yeah, I can stand," Rookie replied, using the wall for support as she rose to her feet. She was wobbly, and her back hurt pretty badly.

"I'll help ya up da stairs," Racetrack said, taking Rookie's arm and putting it around his shoulders. "C'mon, let's get chyou outta heah." Rookie held no objections to that and leaned on Race for support as they walked back into the Lodging House.

Climbing up the stairs was like a perilous, never-ending adventure for her, but Race supported her the whole way. That's what Rookie liked about him. Sure, he could be a jackass half of the time, but when one of his friends or fellow newsies was in trouble or hurt, he was right there to help them. He treated her like a beloved little sister, loving to joke around with and tease her half-to-death, but also becoming extremely protective when need be.

"Thanks a lot, Racetrack," Rookie said as she laid down in her bed. He smiled and shook his head.

"It was nuthin', Rook," he replied. But he bent down and lowered his voice down to a whisper as they heard Jack, Spot and Echo coming up the stairs. "But I don't want chyou hangin' aroun' Echo at all, got it? Not foah nothin'. Undastand?" Rookie nodded her head. "Good. Sleep good, ya still got woik tamorra ta look forward ta." Rookie smiled and told him "Good night" as he left the room.

And still, even though her body ached, she could not fall asleep. For an hour she laid awake, staring at the ceiling. She discovered by gentle use of her fingertips that she had a cut on her cheek from where she had scraped the brick. For the entire length of that hour, she contemplated going into the wash room. And it took her another half an hour just for her to heave herself out of the bed and start walking.

She was silent as she crept across the bunkroom, watching for any sign of movement. The only sound she heard besides her shuffling feet was a lot of snoring. In the dim light from a street lamp outside, she could make out Spot's figure lying on the bunk next to where Echo lay. She stopped and stared at him momentarily, wondering how he could sleep when she could not. Was she just another girl he took advantage of? She wanted to go over there and be with him, but she knew she couldn't, not until hr knew that Rookie was Rookie. Staring a few moments longer, she then shook her head and continued on into the washroom.

"Ow," she mumbled as she placed a wet rag around her eye. It had swelled, she could tell. She should have put this on right away, it would be hard to get the swelling down now. She winced as she ran a cloth over her scrapes, sharp pains running through her cheek.

How would she ever wake up the next morning if she could not get any sleep tonight, and her bronchitis would not get any better. Coughing, she put fresh cold water on the rag and carried with it pressed against her eye back to the sick room. She lay down, snuggling under her cover and keeping the rag over her eye. After what she thought was about fifteen minutes, she tossed the rag to the floor and attempted to fall asleep.

--

What little sleep she actually got was fitful, and she did not get any proper rest from it. She was up and getting dressed before Mush knocked on the door to wake her up. She pulled her hat down low, hoping that her black eye wouldn't be too noticeable.

"Whoah, Rookie!" Kid Blink exclaimed as Rookie walked by him. "Is that a shina I see?" Rookie found it sort of comical that Blink didn't share the strong Manhattan accent that the other newsies did, he just pronounced some words differently. Rookie stopped in her tracks to see that suddenly Mush, Kid Blink, Itey, Crutchy and Skittery were in front of her.

"Lemme see!" Blink said excitedly, taking Rookie's hat off her head. When he saw the large mark and the cut, he suddenly went into 'older-brother-must-protect-little-sister' mode. "Who's the bum that did this to ya?" Rookie shook her head and snatched her hat back and shot a look across the room to Echo, who had stopped what she was doing to listen in on the conversation. She looked very self-satisfied.

"Echo did dat?" Skittery asked, glancing from Echo to Rookie. "Holy shit, what'd you do ta da goil?"

"I was outside last night," Rookie explained, "and I took a rock and threw it down the alley. I didn't see that she was there, doing whatever she was doing and I accidentally hit her in the face. I really didn't mean to. I tried to tell her but she still came at me."

"Holy shit," Itey said with a shake of his head. "Conlon's gotta get his newsies unda control." Echo had a word to say about that.

"What'd chyou say, Itey?" she snapped, approaching them.

"Ya hoid him da foist time, Echo," Skittery snapped, stepping to Itey's side.

"C'mon Rookie," Blink said quickly, taking Rookie's arm and ushering out of the bunk room. "Let's not have anymore trouble then what has already started." Rookie nodded and replaced her hat, letting Mush and Kid Blink lead her downstairs to wait for Jack and the others.

When Jack did get down, he immediately went to Rookie and separated her from the group of boys, who were planning how to get the Brooklyn newsies back for soaking Rookie, despite Rookie's own protest to the matter.

"Did chyou tell da truth 'bout what happened last night?" he asked her. When she nodded and promised him that she had, he continued. "Good. Echo's out foah blood, since da guys is givin' her such a hard time now. I want chyou ta stay wit me until she calms herself down." Rookie agreed, liking those terms very much. She didn't want to go out by herself, especially after Echo's warning last night.

"_Ya betta loin da ropes quick Brooklyn, ya stupid Pulitza. Spot's not always gonna be dere foah ya. 'Specially if ya keep goin' on like ya are now." _She heard it like it had been whispered in her ear, and it sent shivers up her spine. She wasn't looking forward to selling papers today, her back was sore and she looked like she had been hit by a trolley; from the bruise, to the cut, to the paleness from her bronchitis, to the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. A monkey could tell that she was not well.

"Shooting at Elis Island! Young girl near-death in the hospital, elderly woman struggling for life!" Rookie called out the true headline that morning. For once in the few weeks that she had been a newsie, the headline didn't have to be exaggerated.

She had only taken fifteen papers this morning, and hoped that she would sell them all and be able to buy a decent lunch. Her stomach growled every other minute, and though it irked her, it also helped her sell more papers, as did her black eye. Rookie noticed that when most buyers saw guy newsies with black eyes, they avoided them to watch out for aggressive behavior. But, when a girl like herself had a black eye, the buyers tended to feel sorry for her.

She was out of papers by the time that the noon edition of the paper was out. Her head ached and the pressure in her chest was getting worse. Jack walked her back to the Lodging House, telling Kloppman to watch out for Echo.

Rookie went up to her room and laid down. She was just pulling her covers over her when the sick room door burst open. She practically fell out of bed, expecting to see Echo ready to throw her out of the window for Rookie getting her in trouble with not only Spot and Jack, but a majority of the Manhattan newsies.

But it was Spot, looking a bit annoyed. "What are ya doin'?" he asked impatiently as Rookie just stared at him. "Get up! Ya got woik ta do."

"Spot," Rookie said bluntly, trying to remove the whine from her tone. "I just finished selling all of my papers, I need a rest."

"No ya don't, not afta last night," he replied, grabbing her arm and pulling out of bed and standing her up. "Afta what happened last night, yer loinin' how ta fight tahday. Ya gotta know how ta fight back. What are ya waitin' foah?" Rookie rolled her eyes, but reluctantly agreed that she did need to learn how to fight. He led her into the bunkroom and started showing her simple punches like right-crosses and left-hooks.

Rookie figured herself to be getting on pretty well, and Spot didn't lose his patience with her. Not a word about Song was said, and Rookie liked it that way. It helped her concentrate and helped her learn a bit better when she wasn't overly-stressed.

"No," Spot said, gaining a little edge as he explained a block for the third time. "When da guy -or goil- goes in ta punch ya in da gut, ya gotta grab deir arm like dis." Rookie knew that was the cue to pretend to punch him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. "Den ya gotta take yer elbow and bring it 'round ta deir cheek and hit 'em real hard." He demonstrated, though only lightly tapped Rookie on the cheek. Spot caught her gaze and held it.

They were still close, and Rookie knew what was Spot was trying to do. He would lull her into a false sense of security again, and then do something ridiculous to hurt her. So when he slowly went down to kiss her, she popped her elbow up and hit him moderately hard in the cheek. In surprise, he let go of her wrist, his eyes darkening.

"What da-" Spot began, but Rookie only replied by shaking her head and walking away. She wasn't going to even give him a chance to talk to her. Because talking would lead to persuading, and Spot was very good at persuading, too good for Rookie's own good.

Rookie went into the sick room and closed the door, locking it. She didn't want Spot to come in here and corner her, he knew he could make her weak. The only thing she could do to stay strong was to stay away from him, and if behind a locked door was the only way to stay away from him, well so be it.

She walked to her bed and lay down on it, covering herself with the blanket. Her body needed rest, and even if her heart didn't want to rest with Spot in the vicinity, her body and mind forced it to sleep. It was a dreamless sleep, that's how tired she was. She needed food, and would get some whenever she woke up.

--

Rookie woke up to the sound of some shouting coming from outside her window. Quickly she rolled out of bed -literally- hitting the floor hard. With a moan of pain that shot through her back, she stumbled and shuffled to her feet, making a slow journey to the window. She saw Spot, Viper, Falcon, Echo, Dazzle and Axel facing off Jack, Racetrack, Mush, Kid Blink and Skittery, with the half of the Manhattan newsies behind them.

Axel and Viper had Echo by the upper arms, and she looked furious. Her face was beat red, and her fists were clenched. She kept trying to go at Jack, but Axel and Viper held her in place. Jack and Spot seemed to be having a formal, leader-to-leader discussion, both ignoring Echo.

Suddenly, Rookie's attention was drawn from the tense goodbyes just below her to one of the side alleys. There was something small moving down the alley, something small and white. Yelping, Rookie sprinted to the door. Forgetting she had locked it, she ran straight into it, her attempt at opening it as she went having no affect. She swore loudly before unlocking the door and sprinting down the stairs, despite the fact her headache made it seem like the stairs were spinning.

She stumbled down the last step, coughing as she regained her balance. Kloppman didn't have time to get a word in before she was out the door. Jack and Spot looked in her direction as she came flying out, and Spot seemed to grow slightly prideful. Though it deflated instantly, as soon as Rookie ran right past him, towards the alley.

"Rookie!" Jack called. "What da hell are you doing?" She ignored his call and looked around for where she had last saw the little animal.

A whimper directed her attention to behind a few crates piled high. Instantly she began crooning nonsense words, not making any sense at all. Her voice was immediately smooth and soft, and she moved slowly now, peaking around the corner. There, cowering in a corner, was a little white dog.

Or at least, she used to be white. From walking through dirt and snow, she had turned more of a beige color. Rookie held out her hand, allowing the little puppy to sniff it before she scooped her up.

"Hello there, little one," Rookie said gently, rocking the puppy as a mother would a child. The puppy was small, and could hardly be five weeks old. Her teeth were tiny, matching her little stature. She instantly nuzzled into the warmth of Rookie's shirt, hungry for body heat. Rookie coughed, facing away from the little puppy, not knowing if they could catch bronchitis too.

She walked back into the open, where Jack, Spot and the rest of the newsies were waiting for her reappearance. "What da hell is _dat_?" Racetrack was the first one to speak when he saw Rookie cradling the little puppy.

"It's a puppy, Race," she explained in a 'what-the-hell-do-you-think-it-is' tone. He sharpened his eyes at her, but she ignored it. She turned to Jack. "I saw her from the sick room window. She's only a baby Jack, can I keep her?"

"No."

"Yes." Spot took over the situation, over powering Jack's answer and surprising Rookie.

"'Scuse me, Spot?" he asked testily. "Yer not da one who's gonna have ta deal wit da mutt. An' Rook's one of my newsies, she fallas my rules, an' I says she can't have dat damned pup." Spot glared up at Jack and then walked over away from the group, Jack following. Quickly escaping Echo's range, she made her way over to Mush, who didn't think she was so bad.

Jack and Spot divulged themselves into a five minute battle in whispers, every newsie present trying to catch a word. Rookie slipped the puppy in her shirt, hugging the little white, floppy-eared girl into a tight hug to keep her warm. The breed looked familiar, and Rookie suspected that she was Dalmatian, premature for her spots to show.

Jack and Spot walked over to Rookie after their intense battle-in-whispers. Spot looked triumphant, which set relief over Rookie.

"Chyou can keep da stupid mutt," Jack said, glaring at Spot. Rookie grinned at Jack, thanking him silently. "But any mess dat thing makes is yer job ta take care of." Rookie nodded.

"Absolutely," she replied, hugging the puppy and kissing her wet snout.

"An' it's yer job to pay for it's food an' stuff like dat, don't 'spect any handouts," Jack continued. Rookie shook her head, willing to accept any terms. He turned to Spot.

"I think chyou should leave," he stated, still angry at what the Brooklyn leader had roped him into. "You've been enough _help_ ova heah, an' ya betta get Echo back befoah she kills."

"Wait," Rookie said accompanied by three coughs. She needed to thank Spot before he turned around and started walking off, and she didn't want to face the shame of calling after him. She held out her available hand.

"Thanks." He smirked and shook her hand, keeping it there a moment longer than it should have. She drew away with a small smile, and went back into the Lodging House before her cheeks flared up. She needed to get some of her money, Rookie realized that she was no longer the only one she had to look out for. The puppy was so thin, she was probably on her last leg as it was, and needed food as soon as possible.

She grabbed a nickel out of her box and shoved it in her pocket. Still holding the puppy within her shirt, she made her way to Tibby's. She was dizzy, very dizzy from the whole ordeal. It confused her, because usually the medicine prevented-

She had forgotten to take her medicine. She swore to herself and kicked herself mentally for forgetting. She couldn't forget again, she didn't want to end up like Song.

She had to convince Old Man Tibby to let her in with the puppy. After pleading her case and promising that no messes would be made, she was allowed in. Quickly Rookie ordered some roast beef for herself, and mash potatoes for herself. The two would have to share a water.

The puppy ravaged the mash potatoes and then whined for more. Rookie took a quick sip of water and then poured the water on the puppy's plate, letting her have the rest of it.

"Hey Mr. Tibbs?" she asked as he came around and collected the plates. "You wouldn't have two clean tin cans would you?" Mr. Tibby said that he did, and asked her why. When she explained that she needed it to collect water and scraps for the puppy, the kind old man agreed to give them to her, and even filled one with water, the other with mash potatoes for the puppy.

"Thank you so much!" Rookie exclaimed as she took them, trying to balance holding the puppy and the two cans at the same time. He said that she was more than welcome -but that it was unlikely to happen again- and then had her get out of the restaurant because a health inspector was coming. She obliged quickly, thanking him over and over for the extra food and water in the cans.

When she got back to the Lodging House, she went straight to the sick room. She first took a gulp of her medicine, then took a tiny scoop of mash potatoes with two fingers to wash it down, and then let the puppy have the of them. She only drank half of the water, and then curled up next to Rookie on the bed. Rookie put the left over potatoes and water next to her medicine so she would remember when she fed the puppy in the morning.

And yet, even with the puppy snuggled against her stomach under the covers and her stomach filled with roast beef and a little bit of mash potatoes, Rookie found that she still couldn't sleep. All she could think of was how Spot had stood up for her and pressured Jack into letting Rookie keep the puppy. But what kept her awake was the uncertainty of it all.

Did Spot pressure Jack because he had known how much she had wanted a puppy? Or did he just pressure Jack into it so that Rookie would go back to him, despite his confusion between her and Song? Or, was he trying to tell her that he had found the difference? Whatever the reason, it puzzled Rookie beyond belief, and kept her up.

She had seen Spot sleeping so peacefully the other night, after one of his newsies had almost made Rookie a part of the brick wall. Did she mean so little to him that he could just sleep something like that off? Was she just another girl he had snaked his way into the heart and mind of? So many questions, but the biggest one was; how did Spot sleep at night, if any of her guesses were true?

--

--

**Author's Note:**** This chapter came out a lot different than I had first planned it out…stupid fingers with their little stupid minds of their own.**

**I know it was a little all-over-the-place, and yes the puppy has a meaning later on, and well, now.**

**If you liked, tell me! I love hearing from you guys. If you didn't, tell me (nicely) what I can do to make it better.**

**-xEquestriad **

**P.S. Thanks to Kathryn Mason-Sykes, Dimonah Tralon, Seren McGowan, Rachel, SerenitySnow412, Two Bits and Newsiegrl123 for reviewing Chapter 13!**


	15. Never Break a Promise

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Fifteen: Never Break a Promise**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I only own the characters I've created: Brooklyn/Rookie, Wish, Viper, Falcon, Axel, Echo, Dazzle and the plot._

**Author's Note:**** Okay, last chapter's significance won't be waved around like a big sign, you kind of have to look for it and realize it. And, I've decided there will be a sequel and chapter fourteen will show significance there. Enjoy Chapter Fifteen!**

_--_

"C'mon Rookie!" Racetrack shouted down the alleyway. "Hurry up wit da mutt an' get movin', willya?" In less than a mere five seconds, Rookie appeared at the mouth of the alley, her little puppy tagging along at her heels on her makeshift rope leash.

"Racetrack," Rookie said as she scooped her puppy, who was becoming bigger and fluffier by the day, into her arms. "How many times do I have to ask you to call her Bear?" She had named the puppy 'Bear' because of her size. Jokingly she had thought to herself that by the time she was fully grown, the pup would be the size of a bear. Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"A million moah times coz she's stilla mutt," he snapped. "No matta whatcha call her; Bear or Bears or whateva. Now let's go befoah da nuns leave an' we don't get no breakfast."

"You could've left without me, you know," she replied calmly. "You don't have to stand here and play guard while I let Bear do her business."

"Ya' know Cowboy would have me head if I did dat," Racetrack reminded. "Afta what happened at da beginnin' of da week, he ain't gonna let chyou on yer own. Now c'mon, Rook. Now." Rookie shook her head and followed Race as he practically sprinted down the street.

Rookie sighed and jogged after him. Over the past week, she had gotten -health wise- much better and could lightly jog over short distances. She still coughed and got headaches, but they weren't as severe as before. She only had four days left of her medicine, and then hopefully she would be better.

She felt the pressure begin to build in her chest, but with the nun's cart in sight she pressed forward. By the time she made it to the cart, she had to put Bear down and went into a not-so-nasty coughing fit. Her coughs were no longer as deep and throaty as they had been before, and she was no longer hacking up phlegm. She patted Bear on the head and then got her coffee and bread from the nuns.

Bear whined for a piece of bread, and Rookie couldn't refuse. She broke off half of her bit and fed it to the pup, receiving looks of disapproval from Racetrack and Mush.

"You'd feed da mutt befoah yerself?" Race asked, taking a bite of his bread. Rookie nodded her head.

"Yes, I would, Race," she replied, whistling to Bear and starting to walk up towards Jack and Boots.

"Dat ain't healthy, Rookie," Mush added. "Yer sick, chyou need it moah den da pup." Rookie shook her head.

"No, I don't Mush," she replied evenly. "I'm not only six weeks old, and I am not unable to fend for myself. I can last until lunch or dinner on half a piece of bread. I've been saving, I can afford to let Bear have my bread." She then fully turned away from the two boys and moved over to Jack.

Though a bit frustrated with the both of them, Rookie knew that Mush and Racetrack were just trying to protect her, but she was getting tired of being protected. She was beginning to be able to see what she could handle and what she couldn't. Since living as a newsie, her stomach had adapted to unstable meal times. Sure, it sometimes left her feeling feeble or light-headed, but then she'd have a meal at Tibby's and all would be well again.

"Hey Jack?" Rookie said quietly as she sidled up next to him.

"Yeah, Rook?" he replied, starting to lead the group towards the distribution center.

"Do you think I could cover a block of my own today?" she asked. "You know, without you or Race or Blink or Mush or whoever you pick watching me like I'm underneath a magnifying glass?"

"No." His reply was short and simple.

"But we're both selling less papers when we sell together," Rookie pointed out. "And I need more money because I've got Bear to feed to now and-"

"Well dat's yer problem, ain't it?" Jack snapped at her, as if she had poked a nerve. It wasn't a nasty snap, just a snap that told her that she was fighting a losing battle. "It's yer fault dat chyou brought da mutt in, an' now ya gotta be responsahble foah it."

"Jack, that's not fair," Rookie replied, clenching her fists in her pockets to stay calm. "That's making me choose in between who gets the next meal, Bear or I. And you know who's going to win Jack? I'll give you a hint. She's about this tall-" she expressed her puppy's small stature with her hands "-brown and black with brown eyes. Can't guess? Look down." She pointed to Bear walking obliviously at her side. "Thanks a lot Jack."

Fuming, she dropped back to talk to Itey. He sympathized with her, but thought what Jack was doing was for the best. He told Rookie that if Echo wanted revenge for her embarrassment and her scolding from Spot, then she would get revenge. But she would be smart about it, and wait until Rookie was alone, then she would strike.

"But I don't want to go that far away from Jack or whoever gets to play nanny for me today," Rookie told Itey. "Just a block away so I get my own customers. That way, whoever is watching me can see me, I can see them, and we can both sell our papers without conflict."

"Have ya explained dat ta Jack?" Itey asked.

"I just tried to but…" Rookie looked down at Bear and then scooped her up. Itey nodded knowingly.

"I'll see what I can do foah ya," he told her, then made his way through his fellow newsies an up next to Jack. He immediately began talking, not taking a breath so that Jack couldn't get a word in until he was finished. When Itey finished, Jack shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair and then nodded. Rookie took a sigh of relief and made a point of hugging Itey as soon as he came back.

"Twenty papers, please," Rookie said to the distributor. With the one hand that wasn't holding Bear's leash (the pup was now attempting to run circles around Rookie's ankles), she tossed the distributor her coins and grabbed the stack of papers presented to her. She muttered words of thanks and then guided Bear over to Jack.

"Who's going to be with me today?" she asked him as she untangled Bear in her leash. Every day a different newsie would play nanny and watch over Rookie. The newsies changed because selling with a partner meant less profit for themselves, and Jack would have gotten many complaints from one newsie if they were assigned to her.

"Mush," Jack replied.

"And you told him that-"

"That you've got your own block?" Jack snapped, cutting her off. "Yeah, yeah, I told him."

"And he agreed?" Jack nodded his head curtly at Rookie. "Mkay," she added, before leaving Jack's side. From his side she moved to Mush.

"I don't wanna let chyou outta my sight," Mush told her flat-out.

"I don't have to be out of your sight," Rookie reminded. "I just can't be at your side, because _I_ don't want to starve."

"Den why'd take dat mutt in?" he asked her as they walked off, starting towards Bottle Alley. "I mean, ya only got one person makin' money wit two mouths ta feed."

"Because without me she would have starved," Rookie replied, looking down at Bear and smiling at her wriggling body and she stuck her nose to the ground, sniffing everything.

"How do you know she would have?" he contradicted. "Someone else woulda picked her up, someone dat had money, real money, not da spare change we's got."

"How do you know that?" Rookie asked. Mush went to say something, stopped himself and shrugged. "Exactly. You don't know, and those chances weren't good enough for me to leave her there in that alley. And if it wasn't for Spot-" she stopped herself, realizing for the first time that she had not spoke Spot's name to another newsie in some time. It sounded strange, foreign. Mush cleared his throat, bringing her back to her sentence. "If it wasn't for Spot, I would have been forced to leave her." Mush's eyes flashed, he remained silent.

When they reached Bottle Alley, Mush stopped her. "Chyou take dis corna, I'll take da one right down dere. Don't chyou move from dis spot fer nuthin' and I'm only a shout away." Rookied nodded and watched him walk away from her. When he was ten steps away, she took her first look at the headlines. When she scanned the lower portion, she was so startled that she almost threw it across the street.

Rookie stood and stared at an image she hadn't seen or thought about since New Years. There, in a small image in the right corner was Brooklyn Pulitzer's portrait. A small headline was next to it, but the headline alone was the only thing that Rookie needed to be afraid.

**New Lead in Pulitzer Girl Runaway Points to Our Own Streets**

Rookie looked around and saw a police officer with his eye on her. Their eyes met, and without thinking she scooped Bear up and ran down the nearest alley. Instantly the police officer picked up on her nerves and charged after her. She shouted nonsense, hoping Mush would hear and follow her voice, or alert him that she was no longer there.

"Hey!" the police officer yelled behind her. "Stop! That is an order, young lady!" But Rookie ignored it. Her adrenaline rush made her invincible to her lungs and head, and she just pushed forward. She never noticed how light Bear was until that moment, and she was very happy with the fact. Quickly she turned down an alley, one that led to the corner that Mush was standing on.

"Mush!" she called as he came into view. He turned immediately at her call and his eyes widened. But instead of doing what she thought he would (grab her and run), he grabbed her and forced her to stop and turn around.

"Don't say a woid," he ordered under his breath. "Is dere a problem offica?" He asked the officer, who looked like he was ready ta lunge at Rookie. Out of breath, he merely pointed at Rookie.

"Oh no, not again," Mush sounded angry, and gripped Rookie's shoulder tightly. "Dis is da thoid time dis week. What'd she do dis time?" The officer, now regaining himself, straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Have you seen today's headlines, boy?" he asked. Mush took one of his papers and scanned the headline.

"President Cleveland Passes Bill that Protects Central Park," Mush read off, then looked up at the officer. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't see what yer problem wit Rookie heah comes from."

"Bottom right," the officer said tersely. Mush read the headline that had practically sent Rookie out of her skin. He looked up and shrugged.

"I'm sorry, I still don't see what chyou mean, officer," Mush replied. "Just says dat da Pulitza goil is supposed ta be heah 'stead of down south. What does dat haveta do wit Rookie?"

"Do you see the resemblance of the two, boy?" the officer repeated. "A little too suspicious for me. I'm going to have to take her down to the station and get one of the Pulitzers to come in to ID that she is not Brooklyn Pulitzer."

"But chyou see, offica," Mush said smoothly. "Dere's a problem wit dat plan of yers, ta take her down to da station."

"Oh?" the police officer asked, raising his nose. "And what would that be?"

"Ya gotta catch her befoah ya can bring her ta da station." While the police officer contemplated this, Mush pushed Rookie forward and right back passed him. The officer shouted and commanded them to stop. Rookie looked to Mush and he just told her -ordered her- to keep running.

They made a series of twists and turns, the whole time the police officer was following them, keeping about ten feet behind them. Even with her adrenaline rush, Rookie was feeling sharp pains of cramps in her sides and her breathing was becoming very labored. Hearing this, Mush turned her into a building and told her to run up the stairs as fast as she could. She heard something crash behind her, but Mush ordered her not turn around and keep running.

When they got to the roof, Rookie was practically stumbling, and the weight of Bear in her arms weighing her down. Mush charged ahead of her and off of the of the building, causing Rookie to scream. His head appeared seconds later, and he told her to come and jump. She did as she was told, and while she was in the air, she realized that there was another ledge not six feet down. When she landed, Mush pulled her tight against the wall and covered her mouth with his hand. Rookie followed his movement with Bear, placing her hand gently on her muzzle.

The heard the police officer charge up, call them by "you stupid kids" a few times, before he retreated down the stairs.

"What in dear God's name was that?" Rookie asked as she slid down the wall and took deep breaths. She let Bear walk around a little on a short leash and let her do her business right there on the roof. At this point, she couldn't care less.

"An old trick Cowboy taught me for escapin' bulls," Mush replied. "Now c'mon, let's get back to da lodgin house and hide ya out fer a bit." Rookie nodded, but smiled weakly.

"Say Mush?" she asked as they climbed the small ramp that led up to the higher part of the roof. "Can we walk back?" Mush smiled and nodded, ruffling Rookie's hair a bit.

"Shoah, Rook," he said, and she noticed that he was also breathing heavily. "Dat sounds like a good idea ta me." The cold air was good for nobody's lungs, and sprinting through it was like putting knives in your sides.

"Did you know Song, Mush?" Rookie asked as they took long, winding back-alleys to find their way secretly back to the lodging house, without attracting attention from police officers. Mush looked over with his eyebrows raised, showing his surprised expression.

"Yeah, yeah I did," he replied. "She was a good kid, a good newsie too." Rookie nodded her head curtly, having already heard how amazing Song was from the mouth of Spot. She didn't need to hear it again. "But," Mush continued. "I don't see how any of da guys compah you ta her. I mean shoah, ya look like her, but yer a different person."

"Can you tell that to Spot?" Rookie asked quietly, biting her lip when she realized she had let that thought slip audibly. She felt Mush's eyes, which had turned back to the alleys ahead of them, jerk back to her.

"What did da guy say ta ya?" he asked sharply, the defense in his tone rising. Rookie shook her head.

"It's nothing, he just keeps comparing me to her," she told her companion. "And I'm starting to think that it's all that he sees in me, an image of Song." She sighed and placed Bear on the ground, letting her walk and stretch her legs. Mush nodded his head stiffly, and then stopped. Rookie opened her mouth to say something, but he told her to shut-up and shouts were made apparent.

"C'mon, this way," Mush said, pointing to a fire escape. Scooping up Bear, Rookie followed him up the escape with difficulty, trying to balance herself and keep the wriggling pup still. When they reached the roof, Mush brought her carefully to the edge. It was then she realized that they were on the building across the alleyway from the Lodging House.

Police Officers surrounded the place, preventing shouting newsboys and a livid Kloppman from entering the building. They were going in and out of it, and through the windows Mush and Rookie could see them ravaging the rooms.

"Come back," Mush told her, bringing her to the other side of the building and hiding behind the chimney. "Hungry?" he asked her. She nodded. "Cold?" She nodded. "Wait heah. Don't move, just stay heah. Da bulls are lookin' foah ya, an' I won't let 'em, neitha will Cowboy. I'll tell 'em we's hidin' out tahday, the bulls should be gone by tahmarra. If we's lucky, den we can sneak back in da middle of da night."

"We're?" Rookie questioned, shivering in the cold temperatures. Mush nodded, telling her that he wouldn't let her stay by herself for anything, that it was going to go below freezing that night and no-way-in-hell would he let her stay by herself with no protection from the elements.

"Stay right heah," Mush told her. She nodded, and watched him descend down the fire escape. She sat down against the chimney, using it as protection from the growing winds. She hated January. Carefully, she opened her shirt, put Bear into it and buttoned it back up, to protect the pup from the cold.

It was noon by the time Mush had been able to get back to her, and by this time the temperatures had warmed up, but only lingered between thirty and thirty-five degrees. Rookie was shivering madly, and quickly he swooped down on her with a sheet from the lodging house. He wrapped her in it and handed her a few pieces of bread.

"Where'd you get all this?" Rookie asked with a broad smile and Mush joined her at her side.

"I got da sheet from da lodging house," Mush told her. "I had ta sneak in up da fiya escape and inta da bunkroom. I grabbed da sheet, a few extr-y cents and den went ta Tibby's and gotcha some bread." He smiled as Rookie took a bite, and then gave a piece to Bear.

"But I couldn't get ta Cowboy, couldn't find him," he explained further. "Dere was Bulls all ova da place. I don't tink we's gonna be able ta get in tahday, but hope fer tahnight." Rookie nodded and then bit into another piece of bread.

"I guess we're staying here then?" she asked him when she had swallowed. Mush nodded.

"I guess so," he replied. "Come heah, so ya won't catch nothin'." He motioned her to sidle up next to him. She did, and he put a gentle arm around her. Though awkward to her, she didn't protest. If body heat was the only heat she was going to be able to get, she would take it.

"I'll pay you back for the bread," she told him as she placed her head on his shoulder. She gave one more piece of bread to Bear, and then stashed the two and a half pieces of bread left in her pocket and laying her head on his shoulder to make herself comfortable.

"Ya don't have ta," he replied.

"Why not?"

"Ya just don't."

---

**Jack Kelly P.O.V**

**Manhattan Lodging House - 9:03 PM**

"What da hell is dis?" Jack exclaimed as he walked up to the Lodging House around nine o' clock to discover it surrounded by Bulls. Racetrack, who was walking next to him on his way back to from the tracks, muttered angry swears as they were approached by one. "Don't say a woid, Race," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Racetrack had tendencies to snap with bulls, and get in trouble with the law with his gambling.

"Do you boys live here?" the officer asked them.

"Shoah do, sir," Jack replied calmly. "Ask anybody. Da name's Cowboy and dis heah is Race. Remembah us, from da strike?" The police officer grumbled something, but Jack ignored it, keeping his temper down. "Sos, what seems ta be da problem heah?"

"We're on the lookout for a Miss Brooklyn Pulitzer, believed to be here," the officer replied. "But seeing as we haven't found her yet, I must ask you, where is she?"

"Brooklyn Pulitzer?" Jack pretended to be dumbfounded by the name. And then, as if he had suddenly regained his memory, he snapped his fingers. "Oh, wasn't she dat goil dat ran away just befoah Christmas?"

"Yes, I believe you know that was her," the officer said steadily.

"No, da only goil we got heah is Rookie," Jack replied. "And she was heah since Thanksgiving. Why would chyou suspect dat da richie-goil would be heah wit us?"

"A tip," the officer replied shortly, and Jack's heart skipped a beat, though he kept his expression to appear confused. Which one of his boys would tell Rookie's secret?

"Well da tip was wrong," Jack said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Well g'night, sir. Good luck wit yer soich, though it's kinda pointless. C'mon Race." And as nonchalantly as possible, the two strolled back into the lodging house and into the bunkroom.

"Wheah's Mush?" Jack asked Itey as soon as they came in. Itey shrugged his shoulders and told him that he hadn't seen Mush since he saw him and Rookie heading towards Bottle Alley.

"Did any of chyou guys see Rookie or Mush since dis mornin?" he asked his newsies. They shook his their heads, not one of them having seen the two. It was then that Jack began to panic. He called Racetrack to his side.

"Race, I need chyou ta go ta Brooklyn," he told one of his most trusted friends.

"Are chyou out of yer mind?" Race exclaimed. "Chyou want me ta go inta Brooklyn by _meself_? At _night_? Cowboy, I thought chyou was me friend." Jack ordinarily would have cracked a smile, but this was not the time for Racetrack's sarcasm.

"Race," he nearly growled. "I said yer goin' ta Brooklyn, an' yer gonna go ta Brooklyn." Racetrack, realizing the tone in Jack's voice, agreed. "Ya need ta go ta Spot an' tell him our little sitch-y-ation. Ask him if he can get a few of his guys out lookin' fer Mush and Rookie. Tell 'em dat he's _gotta_ come straight heah." Race nodded, and was out the back fire escape before Jack could say 'Brooklyn'.

**Spot P.O.V**

**Brooklyn Lodging House - 10: 30 PM**

"Spot, dis is ridiculous," Echo said as he brushed passed her without as much as a word. "It was at da beginnin' of da week, why does it still matta?" Spot didn't even bother to answer, he simply kept walking passed her and up the stairs. Echo knew why he was angry with her. Not only had she attacked Rookie with no reason, she had also put the alliance of Manhattan and Brooklyn in jeopardy. She was going to pay for her disobedience.

He walked into the boys' bunkroom and slammed the door in Echo's face as she attempted to follow him. She knew that she wasn't allowed in the boys' bunkroom, and only Spot was allowed in the girls' for emergencies.

He was just settling down in his bunk when he heard a commotion from downstairs. A lot of shouting, Echo and a voice that was not from his own newsies. In fact, it sounded like Racetrack. With an angry huff, Spot jumped off of his top bunk and moved swiftly out of the bunkroom and downstairs. The sight that he was brought upon surprised him.

Racetrack was glaring across the room at Echo, who was grinning proudly along with Dazzle and Iris, another one of his girl newsies. When Racetrack turned his head to see who was coming down the steps, Spot could see a bruise starting to form around his eye. Instantly, he turned to Echo, who's smile disappeared as soon as she caught eyes with him.

"'ey Spot!" Racetrack took his attention away from his rebellious newsgirl. "We's gotta problem ova in Manhattan."

"Dis late at night, Race?" Spot questioned, his voice edged from his rising anger with Echo. "What could be such a big problem dat Manhattan's gotta consult Brooklyn?" He watched Racetrack's face turn serious.

"It's Rookie an' Mush," he told him. "Somethin's happened." Spot stopped in his tracks, but retained his air of nonchalant.

"What's up?" he asked.

As Racetrack explained the headline that was in Manhattan, Spot replied that he had seen it, but thought it was no big deal. The Italian newsie went onto further explain that at least twenty bulls were stationed outside of the Manhattan lodging house, keeping an eye out for Rookie because she looked like Brooklyn Pulitzer. He added that Cowboy had no idea where Rookie was, but expected Mush to be with her because he was no where to be found. Spot's blood boiled.

"Jack wants chyou in Manhattan, now," Racetrack said as he finished. "An' he asked if ya could send out a few of yer scouts ta look foah dem, since we's bein' watched." Spot nodded and ordered Axel and Falcon out to go look for Rookie and Mush. After that, he grabbed Race by the shirt and forced him out of his lodging house and made Race keep up with his own pace.

**Rookie & Mush P.O.V  
Rooftop - 1:25 A.M**

Rookie was freezing, absolutely freezing. It had to be well past midnight, and yet the bulls had remained at their posts. Even snuggled up in Mush and sharing Bears's body heat as the pup was in her shirt, it was not enough. She could hardly feel her feet, and her head was throbbing terribly. She had missed her medicine this morning and tonight, and the affects were hitting her hard.

She hacked miserably, facing away from Mush. Mush pulled her closer and rubbed her back gently. His own hands were freezing, yet he refused to share the sheet with Rookie. He told her stubbornly that she needed it more than he would. To help him out, Rookie had moved into his lap and snuggled into his chest, forming a human blanket. She would not her brother-like friend freeze on her account.

Her head began to throb so badly, she could not open her eyes, it required too much work. She coughed more frequently, and they became throaty and phlegm-y as the night grew on. God damn it, she was going into bronchitis relapse. She shivered, coughed and whimpered in pain and discomfort. Bear nuzzled against her chest, licking her neck. The dog's breath was warm, so Rookie did not protest.

"Mush," she said through a cough. "Mush, I don't think I can stay awake anymore."

"It's okay, Rook," he replied, his tone shaking in the cold. "Chyou can go ta sleep."

"Mush?" she said quietly, whimpering as a particular bad head throb racked pain all through her skill.

"Yeah?" he replied, rubbing her back gently.

"Don't let me die," she rasped after a cough. He brought her in tighter, careful not to squish little Bear.

"I ain't goin' ta let ya die," he whispered, rubbing her back faster to create more friction and resting his chin gently on the top of her head. "Yer gonna be fine, I promise. We's gonna be back at da lodgin' house real soon. Go ta sleep. Ya need yer rest." Rookie did not protest, only bowed her head slightly tried to relax her shaking body. Within minutes, she fell asleep to the gently thumping of Mush's pulse.

**Spot & Jack **

**Lodging House - 5:30 A.M**

"Wouldja stop pacin' like dat?" Jack snapped irritably. "It's annoyin' da hell outta me." Spot had been pacing for the past hour and a half, trying to pass the time and trying to clear his head. Jack, who had to stand there watching him, had grown frustrated with the tapping of Spot's shoes repeatedly on the hardwood floor.

"Well what else do ya want me ta do, Cowboy?" Spot replied in his own snap. "Sit dere like nothin's wrong an' wait 'til Mush and Rookie come walkin' in dat doah? No." Over the past few hours, he had gone over every minute that Rookie and him had spent together, becoming more anxious for her return with each memory. He had gone over what she had told him about her and Song, and he had made his decision.

"Yer guys are combin' da city, right?" Jack asked as he too, stood up and began to pace. Once he had begun, he found that it was slightly relaxing, and sidled up to Spot. Spot only nodded in reply.

"Wheah are dey?" Itey asked from his bunk. He had stayed up most of the night also, dozing off now and again. Most of the newsboys had stayed up, all concerned about Rookie and Mush's well-being.

"I dunno," Spot snapped in reply. "If I did I'd be tellin' dem ta hurry da hell up."

There was a silence in the room for a few minutes, save for the clicking of Jack and Spot's shoes on the floor as they paced, trying to keep themselves from snapping. Suddenly, a shout was heard from the stairs.

"Cowboy!" It was Mush. Spot and Jack moved towards the door, but before they reached it, it was kicked open. There in the doorway was Mush, holding the limp, pale body of Rookie in his arms. Bear was on Rookie's chest, doing her best at growling, protecting her owner.

Spot went straight to her and felt her pale face. It was cold and colorless. He found himself becoming angry as Mush led her over to her old bunk and placed her down. Rookie was lifeless, she just laid there. But she _promised_, she couldn't be like this, it couldn't end like this.

She coughed, and coughed again. Spot thought that her coughs were the most beautiful sounds that had ever graced his ears. Her coughs meant she was still alive. He kneeled beside her, ignoring the 'threats' from the pup and pulling a sheet over her. He ordered for more to be brought to her, and with the help of Mush, Racetrack and Jack, wrapped her up tightly, and placed Bear on top of her chest, under two shhets for extra warmth.

Rookie was breathing, she was alive. Carefully, with the up-most tenderness, Spot leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, cupping her cold cheek in his hand. He kneeled near her head and stroked her hair, feeling powerless.

"Remembah, Rook," he said quietly into her ear, inaudible to the rest of the newsies who were scrambling to make her comfortable. "Chyou promised me somethin'." To his surprise, Rookie turned her head to him and opened her eyes just barely.

"I remember, Spot," she replied, her whisper so low that Spot had to strain to hear her. "I remember I promised." And with that she turned her head back and closed her eyes, coughing harshly. Spot just kneeled there, ordering the Manhattan newsies to get her more blankets, water, her medicine, while he did not move a muscle.

_Whetha she wants ta or not,_ Spot thought as he watched her intently, making sure breath still left her and then was still replaced. _She's gonna keep her promise._

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Author's Note:**** Well there's chapter fifteen! I hope you enjoyed it, please review if you did. If you didn't, then feel free to (nicely and constructively) critique it. **

**Chapter sixteen will be out soon enough!**

**xEquestriad**

**P.S. BIG thanks to Dimonah Tralon, SerenitySnow412, killtheenviousmoon, Seren McGowan, Chocolate Monkey(for reviewing 5 too), ConlonKellyHigginsGoil304, Kathryn Mason-Sykes and Kayli for reviewing chapter fourteen! I really enjoy hearing from you guys.**


	16. In Between L & D

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter Sixteen: In Between L & D**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own only what I created, which was not Newsies._

**Author's Note:**** "The Promise" is located in Chapter 12 after Spot tells Song's story.**

-

-

Rookie couldn't feel her body. She felt numb. Not cold, not hot, nothing at all. She could barely open her eyes, and when she did, she found that she was moving. She turned her head ever-so-slightly and saw that Mush was carrying her, and Wish was on her stomach. Mush's eyes were set forward, as if he didn't want to look at her. She tried to say something, but her lips wouldn't move. Accepting defeat after only two tries, she leaned her head in and closed her eyes.

"Who is that, young man?" she heard someone ask. That someone sounded so far away, so very far away. Where were they?

"Dis is Rookie, offica," she heard Mush reply. "She lives heah."

"We're going to have to take her down to the station, boy," another far-away voice said, and Mush's grip tightened on her small body.

"She's too sick ta go, officas," he said. "Look at her, she can't even walk right." She couldn't hear what they said next as she broke out into a violent coughing fit. After that, she had no strength to even position her head right, she just let it lay back and stayed in that position, with no decision whether or not to change it.

Suddenly they were in somewhere warmer than the outdoors, away from the harsh winds. _The lodging house,_ Rookie thought to herself. _Those two officers must have been the guards that were set up here last night._

A shout from Mush, calling out Jack's name didn't do anything to startle her. Her senses were so dulled that even if she had wanted to be afraid of his shout, her body wouldn't comply. She heard something like a door slam, and she could hear people around her, talking in hushed voices. She could barely feel that someone was touching her cheek, and she wished she was able to see who it was, but her eyes wouldn't open. She coughed loudly and harshly, her throat and lungs burning with the force.

And then she wasn't in Mush's arms, but on a bed being wrapped up tight. Someone placed a kiss on her forehead and began to whisper to her. Rookie recognized Spot immediately and tried her hardest to listen to him, to hear what he had to say. Something about a promise -- she remembered. She had promised Spot that she wasn't to go like Song did.

So with all the might she could muster, she forced her eyes open as wide as she could (which wasn't very wide at all) and turned her head to Spot. "I remember, Spot," she rasped to him. "I remember I promised." Unable to speak anymore, she turned back and closed her eyes. With all her might she would fight this sickness. She would not send Spot through hell again, she would not die.

--

"Shhh," someone was telling her, far, far away as she moaned and tried to roll over on her side. She felt someone blocking her turn, and force her to return to her position on her back. "Ya can't lay on yer side, ya gotta keep yer breathin' normal." Rookie had lost her ability to do anything other than breathe, moan and roll in place, so she just stayed on her back.

"Yer boinin' up," the same person told her. She could just recognize the voice, but her mind was scrambled, and wouldn't grasp onto just one. Mush, Jack or Spot was taking care of her, she just didn't know exactly which one was talking to her. She wanted to ask who was there, but she couldn't speak. Just saying those few words to Spot had completely tired her out, and then she had tried to roll over.

And then something cold was placed on her head. She flinched, but whoever was talking to her told her that putting a cold cloth on her head would bring the fever down. How did a newsie know this? Suddenly a little frightened, she attempted to shift, but something stopped her, a large, firm hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Rookie," someone, a man's voice, was telling her. He was calling her by her newsie name, so whoever it was, must have been a friend to the newsies. Perhaps Kloppman or Denton. Whoever it was, they knew that she was Rookie, and Rookie knew that she was with the newsies, so she relaxed. Something heavy moved onto her stomach, and a faraway yip told her that it was Bear, the only dog that even her frazzled mind could comprehend being at the Lodging House.

And then everything went black, and she could no longer hear anything around her. After her ordeal was over, Rookie was able to look back and realize that while she was sick, she passed out quite frequently. During her sickness, however, she figured herself passing out to be simply dreamless naps. But she found that, when she woke up, they were the 'naps' in which she received the most rest.

**Mush P.O.V**

Mush watched as Spot sat next to Rookie, watching her intently. No expression showed on his face, he just sat there and stared at her. It angered him that he did so, and he wished that he could soak Spot until no end. He had watched as Spot had Rookie on a thin string, pulling her this way and that until he finally broke it, leaving Rookie for herself. He had seen her on the days after they fought, she had seen how much he had pained her.

And yet, Mush could not find himself to be angry with Spot for staring. Mush found himself doing it quite often, even before this illness had taken over her. Since the first day he had met her, all he wanted to do was stare at her and watch her. He didn't know why, at first she had just been some girl that was joining the newsies. But now, she was so much more than that.

And as he stared, he thought of their previous night on the rooftop and couldn't help but smirk slightly to himself. The way they had shared body heat to survive and shared food and shelter from the wind. And when she felt like she could no longer go on, Rookie had put complete trust in Mush, the trust to keep her safe and not let her die. Mush believed that there was no greater trust between two friends than that of life.

Mush felt his eyes narrow at Spot, sudden anger rising within him, the sudden urge to soak him was never stronger. He took a step towards him, fists clenched, when something stopped him. Rookie went into a fit of coughing and hacking. He watched tears roll down her cheeks from her body's effort, and took a step away from Spot. Even though he had hurt her, even though he thought better of a dead girl, Rookie still cared for Spot, and it would do Mush's relationship with Rookie to soak someone that she cared about.

Suddenly, a thought popped into Mush's head and he turned on his heels, walking out of the bunkroom.

**Newsies P.O.V**

Mush walked out of the bunkroom quickly, catching the eyes of the few newsies that had stayed behind on Rookie's behalf. Itey, Skittery, Crutchy, Mush, Jack and Spot had all stayed behind, and Brian Denton had come in to help out with the little he knew about medics. So far, it was that Rookie was to stay on her back so she would not clog up her airways or stretch her neck in awkward positions.

Mush returned into the room about half a minute later, medicine bottle in hand. Spot looked up as Mush took the cap off of the bottle, poured some medicine in it and gently tipped Rookie's chin back and opened her mouth with his thumb. Spot watched with protective, apprehensive eyes as Mush gently slid the syrup down Rookie's throat. Rookie gave out a cough, which brought both Newsies to be tense, but then relaxed back into sleeping with the similar characteristics of a log.

Mush sat and puzzled for a long time, remembering back when Song was in the hospital, and what they had done for her. He remembered that she had two towels, one on the top of her head and one on her chest. One was hot, and one was cold, but he couldn't remember which one was which. With a last look at Rookie, he turned and walked over to Jack, who was leaning on a bedpost and talking to Denton.

"All the newspapers are printing her picture," Denton told Jack. "Pulitzer really wants to find his niece. Now I wasn't in the room, but I heard that when he got the tip, Pulitzer went practically insane. I heard he nearly threw something at the person-"

"I wish he woulda hit 'em," Jack snapped, taking a glance out the window. "Fuckin' bulls everywheah."

"But then this person gave him some sort of proof," Denton continued, he too glancing out the window to get a glimpse of the police officers surrounding the lodging house, as if waiting for Brooklyn Pulitzer to go waltzing by in a full gown. Noticing Mush, he nodded and then continued. "And I don't know what the proof is, but I wish I did because then you'd probably be able to pin whoever talked. But apparently, after they showed this proof, Pulitzer began barking orders like a mad hound, sending out messages to all the papers, telling them to print the article." Jack nodded, then looked to Mush.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What's up, Mush?"

"Jack, do ya rememba when Song was in da hospital?" Mush asked. Jack noticed that over Mush's shoulder, Spot looked up at the mention of Song. "-an' how she had two towels on her, one on her head an' da odda on her chest?" Jack nodded, and Denton now joined in on listening. "Well, which one was hot an' which one was cold? Coz I was thinkin' dat if we's could kinda imitate da hospital treatment, well den maybe Rook would have a betta chance."

"The cold compress would have been on her head and the warm compress on her chest," Denton filled in before Jack even had a chance to think back. "The cold compress would be to keep down the fever, and the warm compress would be to break up mucus in her chest. I don't know why I didn't think of that, it's something my mother did when I was a child and sick with something like this."

"Sos it's a good idea den?" Mush asked, already taking a step to pivot towards the washroom.

"Yes," Denton said with a nod. "It's an excellent idea." Mush nodded and disappeared into the washroom. Running water could be heard, and then footsteps. Mush came back into the bunkroom, carrying a wet rag. He folded it as best he could so it would fit Rookie's forehead. He brought it over to Rookie and gently placed it on her head.

"Dat's ice cold, ya bumma!" Spot exclaimed. "Whatcha tryin' ta do, make her moah sick?"

"Back off Spot," Jack warned, getting in between the two and telling Mush to get the second compress. "Dats gonna help bring da feva down. Don'tcha remembah wit Song?" Spot narrowed his eyes, his eyes flashing.

"It didn't woik den Cowboy," he snapped. "Why doya think dat it's gonna woik now, wit Rookie?"

"It's betta den nuthin', Spot," Jack replied edgily. "Which seems ta be exactly what chyou wanna do. Nuthin. Let Mush do what he has ta do, an maybe it'll woik dis time." Though he shut up, he still remained tense and glared at Mush as he came back, this time with a hot towel compress.

Mush pulled back the covers and began to unbutton Rookie's shirt. "What da hell are ya doin now?" Spot snapped, and even the other Manhattan newsies stood on edge. Jack pulled Spot back by the upper arm and explained. Mush kept Rookie's undershirt on and never looked where he shouldn't have, and just placed the compress on her chest before putting the blankets back over her.

"Ya gotta calm yerself, Spot," Jack warned as Spot resumed his place in the chair by Rookie's side. "No one heah wants ta hoit Rookie. If ya think dat yer da only one who cares foah her, yer wrong." Though it earned Jack one mean glare, it shut Spot up and he turned away. For a few minutes, there was silence.

The slam of a door downstairs shook them all, even Rookie flinched in her slumber. Below they could hear Kloppman protesting something about demanding entry and if whoever had slammed the door wanted to find someone, they could look through his records. Despite the protests. Sets of footsteps came pounding up the stairs. All newsies got to their feet or hopped off their bunks.

With a pronounced _'whoosh'_ and an even louder _'bang!'_, the door flew open and crashed against the wall. All of the newsies were silent at the sight of the intruder. Spot was at Jack's side in a moment, blocking the way to Rookie's bed.

"Why da _hell_ are ya heah?" Spot snarled. "Can't chyou see dis is a private party? An' extr-y, extr-y, chyou ain't invited." The man, dressed in the finest clothes money could buy, dropped his coat off of his shoulders, tossing it to the police officer that was standing next to him. He looked amused by the whole situation, his eyes wandering around the bunkroom.

"Yeah, buddy," Jack snapped, putting a hand on Spot's shoulder to keep the already fired-up Brooklyn leader from going after the man. "Whatcha ova heah foah anyways? Ain't some richie like you s'pposed ta be at some office?" He paused only momentarily. "Who are ya anyways?" The rich man smirked and shook his head. Looking directly at Spot, he smirked.

"I'm Calvin Covert," he said. "A good friend of the Pulitzers. I was sent here by Joseph and his sister-in-law, Mary-Ann to look for Mary-Ann's daughter, Brooklyn. I believe Spot here had a very close relationship with my ex fiancé at one point. Isn't that right, Mr. Conlon?"

"I don't know wheah da hell yer pretty little Brooklyn went," Spot told him. "But she ain't heah. If she didn't tell chyou wheah she was goin', why da hell do ya think she would tell me? What makes ya think we's would even care?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Cal hissed. "Besides, the police have informed me that there is a girl newsie residing here that looks stunningly like Brooklyn. I've got permission from the police and the court to come have a look around." Before Spot could reply, Jack cut in.

"She's ova dere, " Jack told Cal. "Well, dat's our goil. Her name's Rookie and she ain't no richie. Me cousin, matta of fact. But she's sleepin' now, sir, she got real sick."

"We'll see about that," Cal replied. Spot stiffened, glaring hard at Jack as Cal passed, walking towards Rookie. Mush quickly removed Wish from Rookie's chest, the little pup was beginning to growl and bark as Cal encroached, nearer and nearer to her owner. Denton stepped over to the other side of the bed, watching Cal carefully.

**Rookie P.O.V**

The slamming of a door stirred her, she flinched at the loud sound. She woke up, but she couldn't open her eyes, she was still too weak. She felt something cold on her head, and something hot on her chest. Uncomfortable, but she was breathing a bit better. She heard the newsies move up around her, and could hear people pounding up the stairs, and the door opened with a bang.

The voices were slurred, and she couldn't them so well, but she recognized three. One was Spot's, the other was Jack's, and one, one was Cal's. She stiffened, now becoming frightened. If she was found out, she would be removed from the Lodging House and forced back into the cage she had lived in before, back with her mother and sister and Cal, the three people she disliked the most.

There were footsteps coming towards her bed, and with all her might Rookie did not over-excite herself. Wish was taken off of her chest, she could hear Bear growling and barking as whoever was approaching her bed got closer. She set off into one of her uncontrollable hacking fits, and she barely heard the person back off a few steps. When she finally stopped, she heard an all-too-familiar voice bark at her.

"You there! Girl!" Cal snapped. "What is your name?" Rookie tried with all her might to just open her mouth and say a few words. "I'm talking to you, girl. What is your name? Have you something to hide?" Rookie shook her head ever so slightly, her lips refusing to make words. And then someone was shaking her shoulder, roughly. She heard Spot going into a fit, yelling at Cal, and Jack was warning Cal to back off and not touch her. The rest of the newsies were yelling at once, but Denton's voice cam through clear-cut.

"Enough!" he told the newsies. "Mr. Calvert, if you would kindly remove your hand from Rookie's shoulder. The girl is very sick and hardly capable of opening her mouth." She heard Cal's voice, but not what he said exactly.

"Girl, do you hear me?" Cal snapped at her. "What is your name?" Rookie took a deep breath and focusing on letting the words come out of her mouth, focusing on making her lips cooperate despite the little energy left in her body.

"Rookie," she was able to whisper harshly.

"Rookie what?" he asked her.

"Kelly," she replied, even softer than the first time. She remembered back to when she had first arrived, that her story was that she was a cousin of Jack's.

"Your name is not Brooklyn Pulitzer?"

"No, sir."

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Open your eyes."

Rookie was hardly able to comply with his wish. She opened them into slits, as much as she could. She could see Cal's brown eyes and slicked back black hair. How she wanted to kick him so hard in the knees and just take him out. But even if she had her energy, she wouldn't be able to with the bulls right there. Cal inspected her up and down before finally snorting in disapproval.

"How could anyone ever think that you're Brooklyn?" he said with a sinister chuckle. "You hardly look anything like her at all." Rookie closed her eyes in relief as he started shaking his head. She heard Denton talk, then Cal and then Jack. The next thing she knew, she heard footsteps walking away from her.

Though speaking and opening her eyes had been a minimal exercise, it completely wore her out. Within a few seconds, she had once again fallen into a dreamless sleep.

-

-

**Author's Note:**

**I'm BACK! Things are still going on with my cat, but he made it through perfectly fine, and his biopsy report came back negative, which is confusing the vet because the tissue didn't look right, so he's sending it to a specialist. But for now, he's good. **

**School's done, so YAY!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'm sorry it took such a long time produce. But I thank all of my faithful readers for sticking through with me through this more-or-less difficult time.**

**I'm still deciding whether to split the material I wanted for Chapter 17 into two chapters and make the last one Chapter 18, or just keep it all together for Chapter 17. So yes, the end is in sight, but there is good news! After a short break once I finish Hear the Bells in Brooklyn, I WILL be continuing this into a sequel!**

**Thanks again to ALL who stayed with me, and thanks to those who left reviews and comments of well-wishings and such, I really appreciate.**

**Also, I've given myself a deadline, for Chapter 17, and that will be Sunday, July 8th, so expect it around that time!**

**xEquestriad**


	17. Because You Live

-1Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

**Chapter 17:: Because You Live**

_I do not own Newsies. I own the characters I created and the plot._

**Author's Note:**** I'm sorry I didn't get this out when I said I would. Life's been more than hectic and definitely more stressful than planned lately. Sorry again, and I thank my faithful readers! So, here it is, the final chapter of Hear the Bells in Brooklyn…**

**OH. And before I forget. This chapter does have some **choice** language not suited for younger readers. If you do not like/appreciate swearing, do not read this chapter.**

_**X**_

_**X**_

Everything was silent in the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, except for the gentle _whoosh_ of wind as it found its way through the cracks in the old structure. Snow fell silently outside the windows, and to one out of the two newsies in the room, the sounds of the outside had no affect what-so-ever.

**Mush sat in the chair next to Rookie's bed, watching her motionless body with attentive apprehension. Absent-mindedly, he scratched the dark brown pup that lay upon her chest, doing her part to keep her owner warm and protected. He rested his chin on his free hand, not caring for the pressure that traveled through his arm to his elbow and to his thigh. He could hardly feel anything at all, his feelings weren't important.**

Rookie had been asleep for four days, ever since Cal came barging in and forced her to over work herself. It was a curious thing, how merely opening your eyes and speaking could be such a tiring exercise. A low grumble rumbled in the silence, and Mush furrowed his brow. He didn't want to take his eyes off of Rookie, but he had to admit, he was very hungry.

And yet, his relief could take as long as he wanted to get to the Lodging House. Even though Spot had showed nothing but the utmost of gentleness with Rookie, he -in no way, shape, or form- trusted the Brooklyn Leader. He had seen what he could do to Rookie at the flip of a coin, and he didn't like it. Every newsie, in New York and out, knew of Spot's reputation with women. And while things with Rookie seemed different, Mush wasn't prepared to hold his breath.

His brown eyes flicked to Rookie's face once more. It was pale and clammy with the exception of her bright red cheeks from her fever. Her eyes seemed to sink a little farther into her skull , with dark bags underneath them, even though she had done nothing but sleep for the past four days. A chilled wet rag lay on her head to protect her from the fever, and underneath her many sheets was a hot wet rag to break down the mucus in her chest. And yet, even as she lay there looking as if she had been run over by a trolley, Mush found her still to be beautiful.

Mush let out a frustrated huff, and gently moved his hand to her cold cheek, gently moving a stray hair out of the way of her eyes. He leaned in closer to her, close to her ear. "I know ya can't heah me Rook," he mumbled. "But, just in case, I jus' wanted ta tell ya dat…well, I think I-"  
"Holy shit, it's a fuckin' blizzahd out dere!" Spot exclaimed as he walked into the bunkroom, sending the door slamming back into the wall. Mush immediately flew back to his original position, and tried to make it appear as if he was fixing a sheet.

When Spot's eyes came on Mush fixing one of Rookie's sheets, he cocked an eyebrow. "Ya can get outta heah now," he told him. It was a silent order, translatable into 'get-the-hell-out-of-here-before-I-soak-you-so-bad-that-yoah-dead-relatives-will-feel-it', but Spot had agreed with Jack that he would not be rude to Mush, and Mush was not to be rude to him. After a brawl almost broke out that week, Jack sent serious ground rules.

Mush's brown eyes hardened as he met gazes with the Brooklyn King. He tried his best to intimidate his superior as he stood up, took one last look at Rookie and stalked out of the bunkroom without uttering one word to New York's biggest son-of-a-bitch (as Jack had so eloquently put it in a previous, private conversation).

When Mush had closed the door behind him, Spot walked over to Rookie's bed and sat down in the chair. He took out a metal can from the pocket of his fleece -the fleece she had given him-, and instantly had a wriggling Bear at the edge of the bed, whining for food. Spot smirked and held the can out. Bear stuck her snout into the can and began lapping up, getting the soft white material all over her brown muzzle.

****

&Flashback&

__

"You," Jack snarled at Spot as Itey, Skittery and Racetrack held him back by the arms from lashing out and attacking Mush…again. "You wanna keep dat fuckin' doity mutt alive? Den it's

your

_ problem. Ya gotta feed it an clean up afta it." Spot glared hard at Jack._da mutt

_ is Rookie's!" Spot tried his best to stomp on Racetrack's foot in an attempt to be freed, though his eyes stayed trained on Jack. "Ya think she's gonna be happy when she wakes up an' it's dead?"_****

&End Flashback&

That incident occurred two days ago, when Mush had suggested that they get rid of Mush so they didn't have to worry about feeding the pup. Spot, knowing how much Rookie had wanted a dog, did not agree with terms. Fighting words were tossed, until Spot's anger finally spilled over and he had attacked Mush. The Manhattan newsies were on him and dragging him away before any damage could be inflicted, and it took three guys to hold him back.

Spot shook his head of the memory and watched the hungry pup devour her meal. Spot had used his own money to get food for the stupid little thing, but he couldn't say truthfully that he regretted working harder and spending the money for something good.

When Bear had finished her meal, she yawned and jumped from the bed to Spot's lap. He threw his hands up in surprise and then creased his brow. Gently, and with a foreign touch, he picked the pup up under the front legs and place it back on Rookie's chest. Sure, he was willing to feed the dog and let her relieve herself outside, but he wasn't one for the whole 'snuggling' thing. Bear whined for a moment and then settled back down on her owner's chest, staring at Spot with large, sad eyes. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"No way, mutt," he told the dog while shaking his head. Rookie coughed, and his eyes flew to her. After a few not-so-harsh coughs, she went back to being silent, and only the whine of Bear was heard. He looked to the pup and she wiggled uncomfortably.

"How can ya already haveta go out?" he questioned the dog. Bear cocked her head to the side and then barked at Spot.

"Shut up!" Spot hushed, looking over to Rookie. "All right, all right, let's go." He grabbed the make-shift rope leash and slipped it over the pup's head. He picked her up, placed her on the floor and walked her towards the door. He couldn't believe that he, Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn and most feared in New York, was forced to walk a stupid little puppy, but…

He looked over to Rookie once more before leading the puppy out of the bunkroom. Spot had to pick Bear up as they went down the stairs, as the pup had not yet mastered the art of walking up and down them. The puppy nuzzled into his chest for support, and he grimaced, but let her be.

"What da hell are ya doin?" the voice called from down the street. Spot -who was already looking away while Bear did her _business_- looked for the voice and saw Mush jogging down the street.

"What does it look like I'm doin', Mush?" Spot snapped, tugging Bear gently as she finished back towards the Lodging House. "I'm lettin' da mutt _go_ sos she don't _go_ all ovah Rookie."

"_Ya left Rookie alone_?" Mush asked incredulously, and then bolted into the Lodging House. Spot glowered and grabbed Bear up, letting her nuzzle into his chest once more as he bolted after the Manhattener. He took the steps in pairs, practically flying after Mush.

"What'dya come back foah?" Spot growled as he placed Bear on Rookie's bed and shoved Mush away from her.

"Well it's a good thing I did, ain't it?" Mush replied, shoving him back. "Coz obviously, ya can't handle sittin' in a seat an' watchin a sleepin' goil. But den again, I guess ya always leave befoah dey wake up." Spot's face flushed red, his blue eyes flashing. Mush had gone way too far, and as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he regretted them.

Spot shoved Mush with all his might and didn't give him time to come back to his senses, he just fired, hitting the Manhattan newsie in the chin. In the background, Bear began to bark and whine, but in his rage, Spot couldn't hear. All he could think of was making Mush a permanent resident of the Lodging House by soaking him until he became one with the floor boards.

Mush punched back, trying to get back at Spot, but Spot was much more skilled in fighting. He landed two more punches and was getting stronger. Bear barked loudly, and coughing was heard. Both newsies stopped fighting and looked over to see Rookie stirring. Spot shoved Mush down before jumping up and damn-near sprinting to the bedside.

Slowly, very slowly, Rookie's eyes opened and she coughed. "Spot?" she asked. He nodded and kneeled close to her. "Have you been fighting? I heard yelling. Spot, I'm really thirsty." Spot couldn't care less if she had completely changed the topic in one sentence, the only thing he could do was be happy that Rookie was awake, and appeared to be better than she was four days ago.

"I's gonna go an' getcha some food, right?" he asked her. She nodded and closed her eyes, mumbling something that sounded like 'wake me if I'm sleeping'. Spot got up from her side and went to go, when Mush stopped him with a hand.

"I'll go get da food an' wata," he told Spot. "It's my toin ta do somethin' foah her." Spot nodded and then fished out three cents from his pocket.

"Get some wata an' food foah da mutt, too," he told Mush. Mush took the money and nodded, putting it in his pocket. When he left, Spot walked back over to Rookie and took his seat next to her.

"Rookie," he said quietly, and she turned her head to look at him, opening her eyes and smiling briefly and then turning into a frown. Spot didn't know what to take of that, whether Rookie was happy or upset to see him first. But he had to speak to her. "Rookie, we's need ta tawk."

X

****

Rookie P.O.V

"Rookie," Rookie heard Spot speaking to her and turned over to face him, opening her eyes. It felt good to be awake, good to be alive, good to be able to open her eyes without a struggle. She smiled as she saw Spot's face, but in an instant remembered Song and her expression changed to a frown. She didn't know what to say to him, so she let him continue. "Rookie, we's need ta talk."

"Okay," she whispered, her throat rasping. It was dry, and she needed a drink. Soon.

"I's gotta tawk ta ya 'bout Song," he told her, and she gulped. Spot must have noticed it, because she noticed him tense as he brought his chair closer. "An' ya gotta undastand stuff. Are ya gonna be able tah? I mean, since yer kinda sick."  
"I'll be fine, Spot," she whispered. "My ears are working fine." She resisted the urge to smile as Spot smirked. While sleeping, she missed that smirk. She couldn't deny that she wasn't happy that it was Spot she first saw at her bed side, but resentment about Song still remained with her.

Spot cleared his throat and then began. "Look, Rookie, ya gotta undastand dat wit Song, I loved her. Or, I think I did, coz I don't know what love is, I s'ppose. But I nevah felt like I did wit Song, not 'bout any odda goil, nevah befoah." Rookie tensed and gulped. What was Spot thinking? Did he think that she wanted to wake up and then be faced with this? Some subject that made her want to vomit?

"Spot," she whispered, gulping. "I really, really, do not want to hear about this now. I-"

"Rookie," Spot said with such a commanding tone that stopped Rookie mid-sentence. "Ya gotta shut up an' listen ta me. Don't intarupt me." Rookie nodded and snuggled under her many covers, silently wondering why there was a wet rag on her chest.

"Anyways," Spot continued. "As I was sayin'. Song was da only goil dat made me stay wit one goil -_let me finish-_" Rookie had opened to her mouth to snap, but Spot caught her and kept her quiet. "An' den when I met chyou, all dat-"

"I'm back," Mush's voice stopped Spot in his sentence and Rookie looked over, smiling when she saw Mush's face. But immediately she noticed bruises beginning to form on his cheek, forehead and eye.

"What happened?" she rasped to him as she took the can of water he gave to her. He shook his head and told her to drink her water. She did, and it felt as if fire had been doused, and Rookie could swear she heard the hiss of a fire being put out ringing in her ears.

"Got inta a scrap," Mush replied, never taking his eyes off Rookie. She smiled at him, but then turned to Spot, who was glowering at Mush, his eyes turning to stone.

"Spot?" she questioned, and waited to continue until he was looking at her. "Spot, you got cut off. What were you going to say?" Spot looked away, shook his head and stood up.

"Nevahmind now, Rookie," he told her. "Now that Mush is heah, I…I gotta get goin', back ta Brooklyn. I've been heah foah days, I dunno what da hell's happenin' ova dere. I's gonna make shoah dat we tawk lata, okay?" Rookie remained silent for a moment before nodding.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Oh, all right. Give my best wishes to Germ."

"All right," Spot replied with a nod. "I'll tell da ankle bita ya said hello. See ya lata, I'm glad yer feelin' betta." Rookie couldn't think of anything to say, so she just sat there and nodded, watching him walk away from her and out of the bunkroom.

"Is dere anythin ya need, Rook?" Mush asked her. She smiled and looked to his right hand, where two cans were being oddly balanced. Both were steaming, and both smelled very good.

"Tell me," she said, looking at them hungrily. "Is one of those cans for me, by any chance?" Mush smiled and nodded, handing her one of the cans. Rookie did not care that she had to eat out of the can with her fingers, the warm roast beef was well worth it. Mush gave the other can to Bear, and Rookie smiled gratefully at her friend for bringing her puppy food.

"Thank you so much for getting Bear food, too," Rookie said after she swallowed a piece of roast beef.

"Oh, I-" Mush cut himself off and smiled. "It was nuthin'. Anythin' foah our Rookie." Rookie smiled, appreciative that she had such a brotherly friend that cared not only for her, but for those that she cared about.

X

X

X

****

3 Days Later -- January 17th, 1900

"Thank you very much sir, much appreciated," Rookie said quickly, stifling a cough as she stuffed the penny in her pocket. She tipped her hat with her free hand at her regular client. The man who had just bought her last evening-edition paper nodded to her and left, trudging through the slush that had formed after the hard snow storm three days before.

Not much had happened since then. Spot went to and stayed in Brooklyn, and Mush devoted half his time to doting on Rookie and making sure that she recovered. He protested her going out this afternoon, but she reminded him that she needed money for February's rent and she wanted to start again before she had forgotten all she had learned.

But she did agree to the two stipulations that Mush had insisted upon. She was to sleep in, and pick up on the afternoon edition. And then as soon as she finished with the evening edition, she was to get dinner and then go back to the Lodging House and rest some more. She was still sick, but feeling a lot better. Her face was no longer pale, and the dark circles around and the bags under her eyes had disappeared. She had lost weight and her closed seemed a little baggy, but other than that she appeared normal.

Sighing, she kicked a stone and walked down the street. She had to go tell her nanny-of-the-day, Kid Blink, that she was going to get some dinner for her and Bear and then going to go back to the Lodging House and sleep.

"All right, Rookie," Kid Blink said after he sold one of his papers to a passing woman. "Let me just walk ya ta Tibby's all right?" Rookie agreed to those terms and scooped up her pup and let Bear lean her muzzle on her shoulder.

"How was your first day back?" he asked her as they walked.

"It was good," she replied. "I mean, it was a little difficult getting back into the swing of things, but I picked it up. Seven days off can really throw a person." Kid Blink nodded and remained silent momentarily.

"Listen, Rook," he said after looking around him as if watching out for someone. "I gotta tell ya something. Mush, he's gonna…" he paused, and Rookie raised an eyebrow. "Well he wants me ta tell you that he wants ta talk ta ya later."

"Okay," Rookie stretched out the word, nodding her head slowly. She didn't understand why Kid Blink was acting as if it was a big secret that Mush wanted to talk to her. She wanted to talk to Mush also, and thank him for his excellent care and for keeping her safe that night on the roof.

When they reached Tibby's, they went their separate ways. Old man Tibbs, now used to Bear, scratched the puppy behind the ears and led the two right to a table. "The usual?" he asked her, taking out his little notepad. Rookie nodded, and figured that it would always be the usual; mash potatoes, roast beef and water. It was the cheapest combination on the menu that could fill both Bear and herself, and after being off of the working scene for eight days, she needed to conserve her earnings. Especially because in only two weeks she would need to pay Kloppman for the month.

While she ate, she pondered at what Mush could possibly want to talk about. After all, they had to talked a lot while he was taking care of her, but it was mostly about what had been happening while she was sick. But really, what else could Mush want to tell her?

When she finished, she paid Mr. Tibby and left with Bear in her arms. Others in the restaurant couldn't care less, they were mostly newsies with a home of their own that didn't have to live at the lodging house. She was still pondering the possibility when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, prepared to demonstrate one of the right-cross-punches Spot had showed her.

"Hey Rook," Mush's bright eyes flickered to her clenched fist and he furrowed his brow. "Yoah not gonna punch me, are ya?" Rookie smiled and shook her head.

"No, I'm not going to punch you," she replied. "I was expecting to see some guy trying to get lucky." Mush smiled as he realized that he was in no danger.

"I would've killed any bummah who tried," he told Rookie, who smiled and thanked him with a light chuckle. "You headin' back ta da lodgin' house?"  
"Yes, I am," Rookie replied.

"Would you mind some company? I finished early."

"Not at all," she said. After a moment, she added, "Blink told me that you had wanted to talk to me, is it true?"

"Yeah, it is," Mush replied, clearing his throat. "But, uh, let's wait till we get ta da lodgin' house befoah we tawk, if dat's all right wit ya."  
"Yeah, that's fine," Rookie replied with a nod, setting Bear on the sidewalk to walk by herself for the rest of the way and stretch her legs and stomach after a nice meal.

They walked the rest of the way to the lodging house in a pleasant silence. Rookie was left to ponder the subject of their talk, while Mush appeared deep in thought with his brow creased and his eyes intent on nothing especially in front of him.

"C'mon, up ta da bunk room," Mush told her as they entered the lodging house. Rookie nodded and followed him, picking Bear up to walk up the stairs. She coughed slightly, her lungs still getting used to trudging up and down the stairs whilst carrying a ten pound animal in her arms.

When they got to Rookie's bunk, she lay Bear down but kept standing to talk to Mush. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, shuffling his foot. She didn't understand why he was so nervous, what could be so bad to talk about that he had to become fidgety. Though this worried Rookie, she remained calm and pretended to be oblivious to his little movements.

"Rookie," he said, causing her to make eye contact with him as he began. "I've wanted ta say dis foah a long time, probably since a little afta we met." Rookie nodded, following what he was saying so far. He stopped and mumbled a few words, inaudible to her.

"Excuse me, Mush, I couldn't hear you," she informed him.

"I just, want ya ta know hows I feel," he replied, just audible. And, before Rookie could blink, his lips were on hers. Her eyes bulged in surprise and her hands immediately flew to his chest. She pushed him away gently, shaking her head.

"Mush!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?" She took a step back, feeling the back of her leg hit her bunk. "I don't know what to say, I mean…" She trailed off, looking at him with struggling eyes. Mush, the newsie she had though of truly as a brother, had just _kissed_ her. He had kissed her full on the mouth, blowing their close friendship into smithereens.

He looked embarrassed, his eyes glued to the floor. His hand returned to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. "I was just…uhm…" he trailed off, much to the same effect that Rookie had. "I mean, I just wanted ta show ya hows I really felt."

"Mush," Rookie said gently, her tone softening and relaxing. "I'm flattered, truly flattered that you feel that way, but I just don't feel that way about you. I think of you more as a brother, the brother that I never had. I'm sorry, I can't think of you in a romantic state." Mush looked like he had deflated, but he moved his eyes to meet Rookie's.

"Spot?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mush," she said truthfully. "I would like nothing better to fall for a nice, stable guy like you. But there's something about Spot. He's different, and I can't shake him." Mush's eyes narrowed slightly, and Rookie wished she had more room to slowly inch away.

"But he treats ya like shit," Mush protested. "He don't desoive ya." Rookie put a hand to her forehead and nodded her head slowly.

"Mush, I know that the way he's treated me lately is much less than admirable, but you weren't there when we first met. When I was still Brooklyn…"

"But yoah not Brooklyn no moah," Mush pressed. "An' he don't seem ta accept dat."

"But you only know me as Rookie," she reminded him. "You knew me as Brooklyn for about an hour, so you wouldn't have anything to compare me to."

"He compahs ya ta Song."

"I know."

"And he hoits ya by doin' it."

Rookie didn't want to hear anymore of what she already knew, so she put a hand up. "And you could treat me better?" she demanded. "You're a newsie too, and I'm starting to believe that we're all the same. But you have one chance to prove me wrong." Mush nodded, understanding her silent allowance. Gently, he dipped down and kissed her.

Rookie closed her eyes and kissed him back. How she wanted sparks to fly and her to fall face first for Mush in that moment. But no sparks flew, not even a tiny ember. She did not fall, she only backed up away from him. All she could think of while she was kissing Mush was how good a kisser Spot was, and how he completely mesmerized her when he kissed her.

"I'm sorry, Mush," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," he agreed.

"I'm sorry too," a sarcastic voice snapped. "Yeahs, I'm real sorry foah da both 'a ya's." Rookie knew the voice and watched Mush's eyes widen in not surprise, but fear. She whipped around to see Spot strolling towards them, as nonchalant as ever.

"Spot, how long have you been there?" she inquired.

"Since dis 'Hattan looza decided he was gonna be a man an' kiss ya," Spot replied, not even looking at Rookie. He kept his eyes trained on Mush, like a hound trained on a scent.

"Then you heard what I said?" Rookie pressed further, trying to get Spot to focus away from Mush to give the Manhattener a head start before the Brooklyn King attacked him. Spot nodded curtly, but his eyes never left Mush.

Spot jumped so quickly onto Mush, that Rookie had barely a split second to react. She got in between Spot and Mush and pushed Spot away. "Spot!" she exclaimed. "Don't you dare attack Mush. This is between you and me. Not you and him." Spot stared at her incredulously.

"Fine," he said, his eyes growing sharp, Rookie swore she could see a flame within them. "Ya wanna tawk? Leave us tawk." And with that, he turned sharply and started walking towards the door. Noticing that she had not followed him, he turned around. "C'mon." Though she heard Mush mumble in protest, her sudden anger with Spot caused her to disregard him. She followed him, but heard a thud behind her.

Bear had jumped off the bed in a spurt to follow her, and was now laying there, confused why she hadn't landed on her paws. "Bring da mutt if ya haveta," Spot told her. Quickly, Rookie rushed over, grabbed her pup and then followed Spot.

They wound up in the street just outside the lodging house. "Sos, ya gonna stick up foah da bummah, even though he just kissed ya?" Spot growled. Unfazed, and used to Spot's temper, Rookie placed her free hand on her hip.

"Yeah, I am, Spot," she told him. "Because he's also the only reason that I'm standing right here in front of you today."

"What do ya mean?"

"I mean that _Mush_ has been the one who has cared for me the most," Rookie elaborated. "All I heard that you did was switch shifts to watch over me. And then as soon as I wake up, you disappear to Brooklyn."

"So dat's it den?" Spot snapped. "Ya gonna believe odda people's woids ova mine? Do I heah right? Is ya fallin' foah some Manhattan low-life?"

"At least it's better than being in love with a dead girl," Rookie quipped nastily. Though she regularly would have, she didn't regret the words that had flown out of her mouth without her brain's consent. She watched as Spot's face became emotionless, as if it was carved of stone. He shook his head, a nasty smirk twisting his lips like barbed wire.

"Yoah kind don't belong in da newsies," he whispered, so quietly that Rookie had to take a moment to absorb what he had said.

"What?" she asked him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'my kind'?"

"Yoah kind," Spot repeated. "Sluts. Goils that play around wit all da guys in da lodgin' house. Sluts don't belong in da newsies. Ya should just go home, wheah ya belong wit all da odda richies." He had called her a _slut_, one of the most offensive, cruel words that could be said to a female. Instantly, tears began welling in the back of her eyes, burning them.

"Fine," she said, scooping Bear up into her arms. She stepped closer to him, acting as cool, calm and collected as possible, even though she wanted to scream and kick him below the suspenders. "But you won't last the night." Before Spot could mutter 'What?', Rookie took her free arm and sent a left hook into his jaw, using all the strength she had. And, with tears now streaming down her cheeks, with Spot momentarily stunned, she turned on her heel and did the only thing she could.

She ran. She ran straight for the Brooklyn Bridge.

_**X**_

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**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note:**** So there you go! The first installment of "Hear the Bells in Brooklyn" is now complete. I'm sorry I missed my deadline, but there is a lot of stuff going on in my life.**

**Before I can start the second installment "Once Upon a Broken Heart", I'm going away to the lovely Florida Keys to play with dolphins for a camp for a week. So I'm taking a little break from writing, but don't worry, OUaBH will be out before the end of August.**

**Thank you to ALL my WONDERFUL readers who have followed me from day one, and my reviewers that kept me going. Thank you so much for keeping me inspired to move forward and not give up with this fic. I am very grateful to all of you.**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter Seventeen!**

**xEquestriad**

**P.S. A big thanks to **ilovenewsies**, **Seren McGowan** and **Kathryn Mason-Sykes **for the great reviews on Chapter 16. And thanks to **banana cakes** not only for a great review but a helpful critique!**

**P.S.S And thanks to my beta reader, Kri, for helping me out!!!!**


	18. PREVIEW: Only Time Will Tell

-1**PREVIEW: ONLY TIME WILL TELL**

_Italics - Narrator_

**Bold - Character dialogue.**

_**Bold Italics - Scene/setting**_

--

_Brooklyn Pulitzer ran away from the only life she truly ever loved, to return to the life she considered a cage._

_**Antoinette stops and stares, as if looking into a distorted mirror. **_

**ANTOINETTE: Brooklyn? Mother, come quickly!**

_**The scene fades as Mary-Ann and Cal rush to her side. Brooklyn is sitting up in her bed, Antoinette holding her hands, a broad grin on her face.**_

**ANTOINETTE: I'm getting married!**

BROOKLYN: To who?

_**The scene fades once more, and Brooklyn is sitting with three others in a circle in the library. Mary-Ann and her Uncle Joseph sit on either side of her, with Cal directly across.**_

_She abandoned her family, her life. They have welcomed her back, but send her away in fear of the newsies._

**JOSEPH PULITZER: We, your mother and I, believe it best if you move down to Georgetown with your Uncle Theodore.**

**BROOKLYN: When?**

**MARY-ANN: He will be here in two days.**

_**The scene flashes to a street in the southern town, where three newsies talk animatedly as Brooklyn passes….**_

_She thought she was starting a new life in Georgetown…yet to be reminded of her past._

**NEWSBOY 1: Yeah, I heard he almost threw one a' his boys offa the Brooklyn Bridge.**

**NEWSBOY 2: God-be-damned. I think Conlon's finally lost his nerve.**

BROOKLYN: Excuse me gentlemen, but do you mean Spot Conlon?

_**And we fade into black again…**_

_But when love shows promise again, will Brooklyn take the chance?_

_**Fade in. We come open to the door of a grand plantation, where a young man -a man that could play off as Spot's older brother-, clad in a hand-me-down suit holds Brooklyn's hand tightly.**_

**DAWSON: Do you want to go to a real party?**

_But when tragedy strikes, and Brooklyn is left with no one, who will she turned._

_**A quick flash of a large white plantation engulfed in flames appears, a screaming is heard, and the picture fades to the front room of the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging House. Racetrack, Mush, Kid Blink and Jack Kelly are in the middle of a game of poker, Kloppman attends the books. Thunder booms, lightening flashes and rain pours down outside. In a flash, a figure appears at the door. The shape of a woman is apparent.**_

**RACETRACK: Who goes dere? What da hell do ya want?**

**KID BLINK: It's Rookie!**

_**Mush's head snaps up, while Jack merely looks over, leaning back in his chair. Brooklyn stumbles through the door way. Dress soaked, tattered and muddy, and her cheeks flushed and tear stained. She doesn't move her bloodshot eyes to see the newsies watching her. She walks passed them and slaps two dollars on Kloppman's counter next to the registry book.**_

**BROOKLYN: You know the name, Kloppman.**

_Falling into her old pattern, slowly gaining the trust that she lost, she will be faced with some of the most difficult decisions of her life._

_**Brooklyn runs towards a familiar face a 6 month-old Dalmatian at her heels. Tears of joy brim in her eyes, her lips parting into a broad smile. At her destination, there stand two young men, uncannily the same in physical attributes, save one is much shorter. But Brooklyn has not seen the shorter.**_

**ROOKIE: Dawson!  
**

**DAWSON: Brooklyn!**

**SPOT(whispering bewilderment): Rookie?**

**ROOKIE(pulling away from her embrace with Dawson): Spot?**

_**The image pauses as the two stare at each other, their eyes locked, their stances rigid.**_

_And as the memories flood back, and the emotions flutter in their stomachs like butterflies the size of pigeons, questions fly into the air. What will happen to the two? Will they forgive and forget? Does the heart rule the head? Will Dawson and Spot kill each other? And most importantly…who will Rookie choose? _

_Only time will tell…_

_**The image fades out.**_

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**Author's Note:**** I'm so sorry for taking so long to produce chapter 3 of Only Time Will Tell, but the truth is that I've lost my muse. So to regain it and boost my thoughts for future chapters, I created this little preview, like one in the movies. I know it's kind of lame…but hey! I've got my muse. Chapter 3 of OTWT will be out soon.**

**Thanks to all my loyal readers for staying with me!**

**xEquestriad**


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